


I'm Here

by NicolesEclipse



Category: House M.D.
Genre: A little OOC at times but it's on purpose, Attempted Suicide, Bad Puns, Bad attempt at medical stuff, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Constipation, Emotional House, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hallucinations, Hospitals, Humor, I'm not sorry, Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, So much angst, but it hurts so good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-10-24 06:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17699537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicolesEclipse/pseuds/NicolesEclipse
Summary: It's been four years since House 'died'. Everyone's moved on with their lives, which meant they left PPTH. Chase had gone back to Australia to build up his own diagnostics department. It had been a rough four years. Yes, he'd been granted everything he could want at his new job, but it wasn't the same. He was still missing something. He felt empty, lost in the same old routine day in, day out. On a day Chase is doing more reminiscing than usual, he gets a call that could turn his life upside down.





	1. House Hazard

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy this fic. I've been working on it since September. I've gotten about fourteen chapters done at the time of the first chapter's posting, so I'll upload more depending on the feedback. Also, As the story progresses, let me know if you guys want it to be M/M. Right now, Chase and House are completely platonic in the story, but I can definitely see how it could be interpreted differently. Then again, all of House's and Wilson's relationship could be interpreted differently, so maybe that's just how House rolls.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

January 8th was the date that would change his life.

Chase sighed, and ran a hand through his blond hair. He and his team were discussing a differential, and he was beginning to get a headache. “A twenty-one year old comes in with chronic pain in the abdomen, and you all won’t move away from alcohol poisoning.”

He heard Dr. Sarah Sanders, one of his female employees, sigh as well.

“She’s twenty-one, in university, and was at a sorority party last night. Yes, I believe it’s alcohol poisoning.” Sanders insisted. “We should get her on a saline drip to rehydrate her and help her recover from the hangover.” She was smart and showed promise, but she had a striking resemblance to Cameron when it came to morals and ethics. After working with House for as long as he had, Chase’d thrown morals and ethics out the door. It was a slow process that he hadn’t even been aware of. He didn’t realize how much he’d changed with House. Not until he’d… Chase shook his head. He didn’t have to think about it. He now knew how House felt whenever Cameron or Cuddy had lectured him about ethics.

“Except there is no hangover.” Chase told her. “Let’s pretend, for a moment, that she’s, say, forty, a thriving business woman, and was at home watching TV last night.” he said, beginning to pace around as he thought. “What do you think is wrong then?”

“I would think she has a bowel problem. We should do a colonoscopy.” Another of Chase’s doctors, Dr. Dylan Tyler, suggested. Tyler reminded Chase a lot of himself when he’d started working for House. He was young, fresh out of med school, and still hopeful. Tyler was also a kiss ass, just like he’d been.

“On a twenty-one year old?” Chase’s last member of his team, Dr. Violet Mitchel piped up. She wasn’t as morally driven as Sanders was, but she had her own flaws. One of those flaws being that she hated running tests that she didn’t think the patient needed based on dumb information like the patient’s age.

“Expect the unexpected.” Tyler said.

“Instead of unnecessarily shoving a tube up this girl’s intestine, why don’t we think of something else, first?” Mitchel countered.

“Like?” Chase raised an eyebrow at her.

“Abdominal pain could mean a number of things. I say we search for a parasite. She’s lost twelve pounds in the last three weeks.” Mitchel pointed out. “It could be a tapeworm.”

“Or a diet I want the details of.” Sanders sighed. “Twelve pounds isn’t concern enough to assume she has a parasite.”

“Yet you want to give her a colonoscopy because her stomach hurts?” Mitchel said.

“No, she wants the saline drip. I want the colonoscopy.” Tyler told her. Mitchel groaned.

“Enough! Jesus, you three are at each others’ throats. Do the colonoscopy, take some blood and do a liver biopsy to test for a parasite, and get her started on the saline drip.” Chase ordered.

“I thought it wasn’t alcohol poisoning.” Sanders furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance.

“Did I stutter?” Chase retorted, which earned him a groan of annoyance as his team left the room to run the tests. Chase felt a headache coming on. He had been running his own diagnostic department for three years now. He’d left the United States to return to Australia and build his practice after House had died. Yeah, Foreman had let him take over House’s department at PPTH, but… it wasn’t right. It wasn’t… he couldn’t walk into that office every day and pretend everything was okay. Nothing was okay.

PPTH felt the sting when they lost three good, no… great doctors in a matter of months. It started with Cuddy’s resignation, then Wilson’s quitting and eventual death, then House’s death. Chase didn’t want to be bombarded with the memories of the past every time he walked through the front doors of the hospital. He’d let Foreman know, who actually agreed. He had already resigned, too. He was going to run a neurology department in New York. It was a demotion compared to running a hospital, but Foreman seemed happy about it, so Chase was happy for him. They went out for drinks that night, reminiscing on the old days. The good days. They talked about every stupid stunt House had pulled, sometimes laughing their asses off at his antics. It had been a good night. They walked out of the bar together, hugged, and went their separate ways, never to go back to PPTH again.

He hadn’t ever looked back, though there were times he missed the old days with Cameron, Foreman, and House. Hell, he’d even take Foreman, Taub, Thirteen, and Masters at this point. As trying as those times had been, in a way, they’d been fun, too. It wasn’t all bad.

Chase went to his desk in his side office that sat apart from the conference office. He groaned and sat down heavily, practically falling into the chair. He looked at a picture on his desk of the old crew. It was around Christmas time in New Jersey, and they were all holding up cups of egg nog, smiling. Even House. Wilson and Cuddy were in the picture, too, but they were too painful to look at. Hell, who was he kidding? The whole damn picture was too painful to look at. He didn’t know why he kept it on his desk. Maybe he didn’t want to forget. Maybe he was a masochist. House would call him a masochist. Maybe he just wanted to hold onto that particular memory.

That had been a fun party. Chase remembered the dancing and the music, the chatter between all his coworkers… his friends. He remembered the Christmas lights strung up around the lobby of the hospital where everyone was gathered. He remembered the large, beautifully decorated Christmas tree. He remembered the smiles, the laughs… Everyone had been in such good spirits. Cuddy and House were even getting along.

Chase also remembered waking up dazed the next morning on the bathroom floor of House’s apartment. He’d gotten blacked-out drunk at that party, and House had taken care of him, of all people. He’d expect to wake up on Cameron’s bathroom floor, or Wilson’s, hell, even Foreman’s. Almost anybody’s but House’s. When he walked out of the bathroom, House had made breakfast for the two of them. Chase gagged, holding back vomit, the smell of grease and food getting to him. House smirked. Of course he’d do everything he could to mess with him while he was hungover. Chase sighed and sat at the table, thanking the older doctor. House had nodded, not liking when people thanked him. He never knew how to respond, Chase knew. House grabbed a plate of the greasy food for himself, and gave Chase a gatorade and some toast. He hadn’t actually expected him to eat the heavy breakfast, just wanted to mess with him with the smell of it.

Chase smiled as he came out of his memories. Everybody had thought House to be a manipulative bastard, because he was, but there was more to him, too. He did care about those closest to him, and he was protective of them. Overly protective of them. Chase remembered House panicking when Foreman had gotten terminally ill when they were treating that cop. He hadn’t been able to think clearly enough to get the diagnosis that, typically, he would’ve gotten days before.

Not to mention the extreme tests House had put himself through when Amber had died, just to try to remember what had happened in the bus crash. He’d done that for Wilson, just so his friend wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of loss. House gave himself a heart attack, and almost drowned, and had _brain surgery_ trying to figure that one out.

And Chase couldn’t count how many times House had bailed him out. House’d bailed him out when his father died and he’d messed up that diagnosis on that woman, House had bailed him out when he got into a fist fight with the head of the surgery department, House had bailed him out, too, when he’d punched him out. House hadn’t gone to anybody about that.

But none of that compared to when House had bailed him out of jail time when he’d… murdered that dictator.

There was that other thing Chase had never brought up, either. No one knew about the one good deed House had done to change Chase’s life. He’d let Chase live with him for months after Chase had lost his home. Chase had been foreclosed on because he couldn’t pay his bills. After his student debt, he was already broke, but it got worse.

After Cameron left, Chase was on a downhill spiral. He began to drink and party a lot, having sex with a new girl almost every week. He hadn’t seen a problem with it. He was just trying to move on, recover from the damaged soul Cameron had left behind. It was Foreman who’d actually been the one to see a problem with the Aussie’s newfound lifestyle.

And while the drinking and partying and sex began to take its toll on his health, it was also taking a toll on his bank account. He thought it was fine, he’d just budget it in and be okay. That’s when he found out the news.

Come to find out, when he was no more than fifteen, his mother had taken out a plethora of loans in his name. Then she died, leaving Chase to deal with ‘his’ debt. He was already living in America when the Australian government had told him of his debts, and he couldn’t afford the ticket to fly back to Australia to fight it. He’d lost his home soon after, and had no one to turn to but House. He’d gone to his boss with his tail between his legs, expecting to be ridiculed, kicked when he was already down. He expected House to call him an idiot, at the very least.

But he hadn’t.

House opened up his home without a word, saying they’d discuss the terms the next morning, handing Chase a blanket and pillow for the couch. The next morning, House had told Chase he could stay with him rent free for as long as he needed, as long as Chase did all the cooking, cleaning, shopping, and all House’s clinic hours while he stayed with him. Chase opened his mouth to agree, not really in the position to negotiate, when House told him there was more.

_“I choose your next place.” House said. “It’ll be within your budget, and I’ll decide when you’ll move into it.”_

_Chase tried to keep his jaw in place, doing his best to not let it hit the floor. “You can’t be serious.” He guffawed._

_“Completely.” House said. “That old shithole you were in wasn’t safe. If you hadn’t lost it, you would’ve been robbed or murdered, or both, eventually.” House told him, and while Chase hated it, he knew House was right. “Now, we’ll start looking for a new place once your debts are paid off.” He told him, then chuckled. “Your parents are idiots.”_

_“Tell me about it.” Chase sighed._

_“Do we have a deal, wombat?”_

_“Yes.”_

Chase had ended up staying with House about seven months, maybe eight. And while House messed with him through it all, he never once complained, and never once told Chase to get out. Chase took the blunt of many practical jokes, but after awhile, he’d learned to find it endearing.

“Dr. Chase!” Sanders called. Chase shook his head, then looked at her. “Are you okay? I’ve been trying to get your attention for a minute now.” She asked him, sounding concerned.

“Yes.” Chase told her. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. Test results in?” He inquired.

“It’s… only been ten minutes. No, you have a call on line three.” She told him.

“Oh, thank you.” He said as Sanders nodded and left his office. Chase picked up the phone and answered the line. “Dr. Chase.” He answered.

“Robert, it’s Allison.” A familiar voice said, and Chase gasped slightly. A variety of feelings flooded his system. Nostalgia, for one, at hearing her voice. Then happiness… then pain. He missed her. He missed her since she’d said goodbye. He spent forever and a day trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. What had he done to push her away? It wasn’t until they were locked in an examination room together when an infant went missing did he realize it wasn’t his fault. Cameron was to blame. She’d never loved him, though she claimed the opposite was true.

“Allison.” He repeated her name, just wanting to hear himself say it again. “How have you been?” He asked.

“Fine.” She said. The conversation seemed forced and awkward. Chase sighed. He wished things were different. He wished Cameron would give him another chance.

“Then what’s wrong?” He asked. “You wouldn’t call for nothing.” Chase heard Cameron sigh on the other side of the phone.

“Today marks four years since House died.” She said.

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? What does that have to do with-”

“House is in the ICU.” Cameron said. “I got a call… he tried to kill himself.”

Chase felt his heart drop. He felt time stop, and he felt the world go dark. So many emotions flooded his system at once. A mixture of confusion, at the mere fact House was… alive? No. No she must be mistaken. He died in an explosion. They found the body. They… oh God. The ID…

Before he and Foreman had gone to the bar on their last night together, Foreman went to the bathroom. Chase glanced at his old boss’ desk, since Foreman wasn’t his boss anymore. That’s when he saw it. House’s hospital ID. There’s no way it would’ve survived the fire had House’s body actually burned up. It would’ve been on him, and burnt up too. That could only mean…

House was alive. He’d been alive this whole time, and he told Foreman that a long time ago when he left his ID for him to find. And that bastard had kept it a secret all this time?!

It wasn’t Foreman’s fault, though. No one would’ve believed him, so why bother? No, this was his own fault for not putting the pieces together four years ago. House was alive. The fucking bastard was alive… but not for long, it would seem.

No… of every stupid thing House had done over the years, he never explicitly tried to kill himself. Well… except for the time he’d apparently faked his death to get out of prison and be with Wilson, but he’d revealed his survival to Foreman after the oncologist passed. He’d put his life back together… somewhat. “Vicodin overdose…?” Chase asked quietly, his words nothing more than a whisper.

“That, and a blood alcohol level of .25%.” Cameron answered. “I… thought you should know, in case he doesn’t pull through this one.”

“Allison, I’m in Australia. What am I-”

“I know.” Cameron answered with a sigh. “I just thought you should know.”

“Are you with him?” Chase asked.

“With him? He’s unconscious, I’m sure, and-”

“So you’re not with him.” Chase stated matter-of-factly.

“No, I’m in LA. Foreman’s in New York, he’s so much closer-”

“So nobody’s with him?” Chase asked. “You and I both know Foreman won’t leave his neurology department for a few days.”

“Robert, I didn’t call to be made to feel guilty. I called to let you know something when no one else knew how to get ahold of you.” Cameron chastised. Chase sighed, and there was silence over the line for a bit.

“Sorry.” Chase finally said. Picking a fight with Cameron wasn’t the brightest idea right now.

“Do what you want with the information. But remember that House is an adult, and is more than capable of making his own decisions. I have to go. Bye, Robert.” She said.

“Bye.” Chase answered back, and the line went dead. He hung the phone up, and sat back in his office chair, which squeaked in protest, in shock. House had tried… and no one was at his bedside? Chase furrowed his eyebrows in consternation. He thought deeply for a moment, then logged into his computer on his desk. After about ten minutes, he’d booked a flight to New Jersey. When he shut the computer off and had grabbed his coat on the coatrack, his team walked in.

“We got her started on the saline drip, and the lab’s testing her blood while Sanders does the colonoscopy.” Mitchel said, watching Chase. “You’re… leaving?”

“Taking a personal day.” Chase corrected. “I’m going to America. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“America?” Tyler’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “We have a case!” He reminded in disbelief.

“And after your guys’ display this morning, I have complete confidence that you can handle it.” Chase said, lying easily.

“Chase, you can’t just-” Mitchel began.

“It’s an emergency.” Chase said. “A medical one. I’ll have my cell on if you need me.” He said as he headed out the door, then stopped and turned around to face them. “ _Don’t_ need me.” He told them, then left, the American doctor the only thing on his mind, not some drunk college girl.

Chase made his way to the airport and through security easily. He sat in his seat on the plane, and looked out the window. It’d be a long flight, but at the end of it, he’d see House again. He’d see someone he thought he’d never see again. How could Cameron and Foreman not go to him? House was alive. Didn’t it all mean anything to them? Chase shook his head. It didn’t matter. They could sod off for all he cared. Right now, he wanted to see House. ‘Just hang on, House,’ Chase thought in his head. ‘I’ll be there by tomorrow.’


	2. House Call

It was an agonizingly long plane trip that Chase’d taken one too many times. The whole time, his mind was occupied with his old boss. Was House okay? Was he even still alive? Would he pull through like he had so many times before? Why had he done it?

That was a stupid question. It didn’t take a genius to know why House had tried to kill himself. He was emotionally constipated, and he was alone. He hadn’t allowed himself to grieve for Cuddy, and he definitely hadn’t allowed himself to grieve for Wilson. He bottled everything up, pretended to be fine, until it all blew up on him.

It was no accident that it was on the anniversary of Wilson’s death, too.

After a grueling seventeen hour flight, Chase finally landed in New Jersey. He hurried off the plane, and shoved his way through customs. Luckily, he still had his old New Jersey driver’s license, since he’d forgotten his other ID at home. In fact, he hadn’t even gone home to pack himself a bag.

It didn’t matter.

Chase called a taxi, and had got a ride to Princeton Plainsboro. House had to be there.

Walking into the hospital brought back so many memories. Familiar sights, smells, and sounds filled Chase’s senses, and it was only now that he realized how much he’d missed it. He didn’t take in the scene long. He walked up to the front desk, where a nurse was working.

“Where’s House?” Chase asked her.

“I… don’t know where you live, sir, but if you’re delusional or drunk, I can-”

“No! _Doctor_ House. Gregory House. House comma G. Which room is he in?” Chase specified. The nurse glared at him for a second, then searched through her computer.

“Suite 223 in the ICU.” She said. “But it’s past visiting hours.”

“I know, but I’m a doctor.” Chase said.

“And I’m a nurse in this hospital. It doesn’t matter. It’s past visiting hours.” The nurse insisted. Chase glared at her, wishing looks could kill.

“Look, either you’re going to let me upstairs, or-”

“Or what?” The nurse countered, her hand reaching under the desk. Chase knew the nurses kept a security button there. He narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll-”

“Chase?” A nurse said, walking into the lobby of the hospital. Chase sighed in relief. A nurse that had been there in the old days. “Robert Chase? What the hell are you doing here? I thought you had a fancy practice in Australia.”

Chase was grateful for any nurse that recognized him. Thanks to his player days, he’d gotten quite friendly with a majority of the nurses. While the one he’d been talking to was new, at least this was one he’d… talked with, in the good old days.

“I do.” Chase said. “But I came back as soon as I heard. Can I go upstairs?” He asked exasperatedly.

“Yes, of course.” The nurse said, understandingly.

“Thank you,” Chase said, sending one last glare at the other nurse, then dashing to the elevator. He speed walked to House’s room, and stopped and stared at him when he got there.

House was asleep, thankfully. He was hooked up to all kinds of machines and tubes. He had IV’s in both arms, which Chase inspected. He looked at his vitals as well. They obviously had pumped his stomach, and were filtering the alcohol from his blood.

House looked so… horrible. Chase wanted to tell himself that he looked peaceful asleep, but he couldn’t. House had to have lost close to twenty pounds, twenty pounds he didn’t have to lose to begin with. His eyes had bags under them, deep, dark ones. His hair was a mess and in desperate need of a cut, and House obviously hadn’t shaved in near three months. His breathing was shallow, indicating pain. Whether it be from his stomach being pumped, or emotional pain, or even his leg, Chase couldn’t tell.

Chase set his carry-on bag on the floor, then sat in the chair beside House’s hospital bed. He’d had such a long day, and hadn’t been able to sleep on the plane. Chase found himself dozing off, and eventually fell asleep in the chair.

During the night, Chase opened his eyes slowly, his neck and back sore from his uncomfortable sleeping position. He groaned in pain slightly as he adjusted his body, hoping to find a comfier position.

“Oh, don’t even start complaining.” House rasped quietly.

Chase gasped, and sat up. “House,” He breathed. “You’re awake. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I wanted to be awake when you woke up.”

“I don’t care.” House said gruffly. He turned his head to look at Chase. “Why are you here?”

Chase looked confused. “You… almost died.” He worded carefully. For some reason, he didn’t want to say the S word. “You think I wouldn’t come? House… I thought you were already dead. I thought, all this time, that-”

“There’s a big difference between almost dying, and trying to die.” House pointed out, interrupting the Aussie’s spiel. He didn’t want to hear it. “You have no reason to be here, wombat. Go home.”

“I have my own reasons for being here.” Chase said. He had expected House to be defensive, argumentative, and he was prepared for it. “And those reasons don’t have to make sense, or even be explained to you.”

“Who the hell called you?” House asked. “No one asked you to come, and there’s no one they would’ve called anyway. There’s no one left to call.”

“Obviously there was someone left to call.” Chase said. “It doesn’t matter who called me.” House stared at him.

“Who called you?” He asked again, and Chase sighed.

“Cameron.” He told him.

“And who called her?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. I only care that I’m here.”

“Which makes absolutely no logical sense, unless you’re feeling sentimental. In that case, you’re an idiot.” House retorted.

“Possibly.” Chase nodded in agreement. He looked around the hospital room, noticing a sign on the door to the room. Ah. The seventy-two hour watch sign. The hospital put House on suicide watch. Once the three days were up, they’d send him to the psych ward, which would then send him to a psych hospital, which was the exact opposite of what House needed. He’d only deteriorate further in a mental hospital. Doing nothing but coloring all day long, controlled doses of Vicodin; he’d lose his mind. Sure, it’d helped House last time, but House hadn’t been suicidal then. He’d needed to detox. Chase watched House for a long few minutes, making House shift uncomfortably.

“If you want a staring contest, you should’ve asked.” House told him. “I feel violated. Consent is important, you know, unless they don’t have that down under.”

“Sod off, House.” Chase sighed. He looked at the floor. “You know what will happen at the end of the seventy-two hours.” He said. House answered without blinking.

“They ship me away to the loony bin. Again.” He said.

“You can go involuntarily. You’ll get a court date, and probably get out sooner than they would originally let you out.”

“I don’t care, Chase.” House said quietly. “I’ll get out eventually. That’s all that matters.”

“And then what? You come back here? Work again?”

“Possibly.” House murmured. “Or I get worse being locked up without the light of day.” Chase fell quiet. He couldn’t let that happen. Terror filled his system. House was smart. Too smart for his own good. All this does is teach him what doesn’t work. Next time, he won’t fail, and Chase feared that the next time would be within the next couple of weeks, as soon as House was released from all psych programs and left alone. And House knew how to play the system. He always did.

Chase couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t go home knowing House’s time was limited. He couldn’t leave House in everyone else’s incapable hands. They didn’t know how to manage him. They didn’t know how to deal with him. They didn’t understand him. They didn’t _know_ him.

“What if you didn’t have to go to the psych ward?” Chase asked. House looked over at him again, one eyebrow raised in interest.

“There’s no getting out of that, Chase.” He said. “I’’m going to the psych ward. They won’t let me just go home. I have to go somewhere where I can be watched, like an animal in a zoo.”

“But what if you _didn’t_.” Chase insisted. “I won’t let them take you into custody. Once the three days are up, _I’ll_ take you into custody. _I’ll_ watch you.”

“You’re an idiot.” House glared at him. “You have your own practice, your own department, your own life. And you’re going to put your life on hold for one person? You’re either a moron or insane.”

“House,” Chase reached over, placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Not everything has to make sense to you. Especially because this won’t make sense to you. Just accept the fact that I’m offering it, and give me an answer. Would you rather be with me than go to the psych hospital?”

“You’re right, it doesn’t make sense.” House agreed. “Unless, again, we go back to the sentimental, emotional side of you that’s buried deep down somewhere in that black hole of a heart you have. I mean, it’s not like a man who murdered someone could have a heart.”

“Evil dictator, thank you very much. And I paid for that with my marriage. And you obviously don’t have a sentimental, emotional side, so that obviously can’t be the reason you tried to kill yourself. You clearly aren’t feeling lost and alone. You aren’t missing everybody. You just want to die, you don’t just want the pain to stop.” Chase said, feeling frustrated. “I’m trying to help you, House. I’m trying to get through to you. So answer the fucking question. Would you rather go into my custody than the state’s?”

House was quiet for a long moment. Chase began to think he wouldn’t answer. After about two minutes, House opened his mouth.

“You can’t stay in New Jersey.” He said.

“If need be, I can make arrangements back home.” Chase told him. “Or,” he hesitated, then sighed. “Or you can come with me back to Australia.” He told House. “I can arrange that, too. I can take you away from here, get you out of this place that has probably been haunting you with memories of the old days.” Chase let the words hang in the air, letting them sink into House. It would mean him moving to a new country. Leaving everything behind. It would be life changing. “You don’t have to answer now.” Chase said. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you thought about it in depth before answering.” Chase stood up to leave the room, planning on getting a hotel room. He grabbed his bag, and turned toward the door, only to stop short.

Chase looked down at his wrist, where House’s hand now gripped to it tightly. Chase blinked a few times in shock, then looked at House. He hid it well, but Chase knew House well enough to know he was holding back tears. “House?” Chase questioned.

“Stay.” Was all the other man said in return. It was a whisper, almost inaudible. It was a secret, almost, as if House didn’t want anyone else to see him desperate, which he was, and Chase knew it. Chase knew it was way beyond visiting hours. He knew that if he was caught in here, he could be in a lot of trouble. But Chase also knew that House needed him. He wouldn’t ever display a need for another person like this if he wasn’t desperate.

Chase nodded, and set his bag back down. “Okay.” He said. “But I am not sleeping on that chair again. Scoot over.” He pushed House over on the hospital bed, to which the American obliged, surprisingly. Chase didn’t know why he did it, but he crawled onto the bed, careful not to disturb any of House’s IV’s. He stayed on top of the covers, letting House stay underneath them. It was weirdly quiet for a bit. Chase began wondering if he should get up when House finally spoke up.

“How long was the flight?” He asked. Chase was confused. House wasn’t one for small talk. Maybe he felt as awkward as Chase did.

“Seventeen hours.” Chase told him, deciding to humor him.

“So you left yesterday.” House concluded.

“House, I have no idea what day it is, let alone what time it is.” Chase told him, chuckling slightly. There was no window in House’s room, and he didn’t want to look at his phone, which more than likely had a ton of missed calls and messages from his team.

“Obviously.” House said. “Since you have no idea I only have a few hours left until the state comes to get me.”

“What?” Chase sat up to look at him. “How… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want to interrupt your bromantic speech.” House said mockingly.

“Fuck, House!” Chase chided. He clenched his fists, then let out a breath. “I need to know, then. Now. Should I stay or should I go?”

“What is this, The Clash?”

“House,” Chase said exasperatedly.

House was quiet again for a long moment. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Obviously he’d been keeping time, down to the hour, of when his three days were up. He looked down at the bed. He couldn’t look Chase in the eyes. “Go.” He answered. Chase felt his heart drop, but House made his decision, and there was nothing Chase could do. He nodded, then got off the bed. He was stopped again, though, and Chase looked back at House, who’s hand was now gripping his arm. “Let me finish.” He said. “Go… and take me with you.”

Chase’s eyes widened, and then he nodded. He felt hope and pure happiness rise in his chest. If he could take House with him, and take care of him, House would be okay. Chase was smiling and didn’t know it, which made House raise an eyebrow. “Chase?” He questioned, bringing the blond doctor back to himself.

“Sorry,” Chase smiled, unable to stop. “I’m just… excited.” He admitted.

“It’s creepy.” House told him. “You’re making me think twice about-”

“Don’t.” Chase told him quickly. “I’ll go talk to the nurses, try to get you out of here before the state comes. There’s one out there that still remembers me. She’ll help.”

“And you’re basing that on what?” House asked.

“She helped me get into here. It was past visiting hours, after all.” Chase smiled, and House simply nodded.

“Hurry…” He said quietly, showing he was worried about being committed. Chase nodded, new determination filling him. He gave House a look of reassurance, then left the room, heading straight to the nurse’s station.


	3. Escaping the House-pital

“I want House’s discharge papers.” Chase told the bitter nurse at the nurses’ station, the one who had tried to stop him before.

“Look, _doctor_ , I don’t care who you are, or that you apparently worked here before. I’m not breaking hospital rules for you.”

“And yet you already have by knowingly allowing me to stay with a patient after hours, through the night, and didn’t call security. And I don’t mean to scrutinize your work performance, but might I mention that Gregory House has a seventy-two hour watch sign on his door, and not one nurse came in to check on him through the night, even though you are supposed to every fifteen minutes. Now, with that being said, you can either hand me House’s discharge papers, or I can go to the head of the hospital with this information and let him or her know about your failure to follow hospital rules, which will get you fired. The choice is yours.” Chase growled, his eyes narrowed dangerously. The nurse met his gaze for a minute, then glanced away, going through files until she handed Chase the papers.

“Here.” She said, glaring at Chase. He took them from her and then sarcastically saluted her. He grabbed a pen, sticking the tail end of it into his mouth out of habit, and went through the papers, signing them as Dr. Wilson. Nobody would know, and nobody could accuse him of kidnapping a psych patient if the doctor who discharged said patient was dead. He gave the nurse the hospital copies, keeping the ones that could condemn him to himself. With the papers in hand, he went back to House.

“C’mon. Hurry.” He told him, going to the dresser in the room and grabbing the clothes in there that House had come to the hospital in. He tossed the clothes to House, who looked comically stunned, then went over to him and started disconnecting the IV’s and the breathing tube. Once House was free of the medical equipment, he helped him get dressed.

It didn’t take long for House to be ready to go, and Chase grabbed his bag again. “We can get to the airport in about an hour. I’ll get us the first flight to Sydney there.” He told House, who’d been strangely quiet through this all. He helped House walk out of the hospital since he was still weak from the overdose. Chase made sure to give the wretched nurse at the nurse’s station a wink as they left, who groaned and rolled her eyes in turn.

Once they were outside, Chase got them a taxi, helping House inside first, then got in after him. He told the driver to take them to the airport.

“No, wait.” House spoke up, getting out of the taxi and going back into PPTH. Chase stared after him, dumbfounded, before shaking his head.

“Wait here,” he told the driver, then raced after House. He caught up easily, and grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? We have to be long gone before the state arrives!” He told him.

“Then book the tickets on your phone that’s probably been blowing up the last fifteen hours, if your team is anything like mine used to be.” House told him. “This’ll only take a moment.”

“House, what are you doing?” Chase asked again, concerned.

“Nothing.” House said, heading to his old office. Chase felt a rush of nostalgia again, following House into his office. It was such a bittersweet feeling. He looked at House, who grabbed a few things from the almost empty desk, including a picture. A familiar picture. The same picture Chase had on his own desk in Australia: the one of the Christmas party. Chase felt his heart break again for House. Everyone in that picture, Chase himself, Foreman, Cameron, Cuddy, Wilson… they were all gone. They’d all left Princeton in one way or another, leaving House alone. Chase never thought he was part of the problem, but he was. He’d left, too, and he’d gone the farthest possible while still being alive.

“House…” Chase said sympathetically. He was all too familiar with the feeling of being alone; of being left forgotten and abandoned by everyone you ever loved.

“I don’t need your damn pity.” House snapped. He hadn’t wanted Chase to see him pick up the picture, or to know it was still on his desk. It showed too much damn emotion. It showed he missed them all, and he couldn’t allow that. If he showed emotion, it would make him… vulnerable. Then again, Chase had already seen him at his lowest. Chase had been at his side after he’d tried to kill himself. Trying to commit suicide showed he felt things, despite how much time House had spent his life trying not to feel anything.

“I’m not pitying you.” Chase told him. “C’mon, we have got to go.” He placed a hand on House’s shoulder, leading him out of the office. They didn’t make it halfway down the hall before they were stopped by a large man in a suit. Chase growled internally. He needed to get House out of the hospital. They were running out of time. “Excuse us,” Chase said, trying to push past the man.

“No, excuse me.” The man said, his voice as deep and imposing as his belly was round. He placed a hand on House’s chest, stopping him, and inadvertently, Chase. “Dr. House. You’ve been released from the ICU?” The man asked. “And not forced to be committed?”

“Got out early for good behavior.” House responded.

Chase cleared his throat for his next words, speaking in an American accent so this guy wouldn’t get suspicious, “Actually, I’m from the state, and I need to take Dr. House here. So if you’ll pardon us-” Chase began, doing his best to usher House away, who was trying to hide a smirk at hearing Chase pretend to be American. It was as funny as when they’d gone speed dating.

“Ah, good. Then if you’ll come to my office, we can fill out the paperwork.” The man said, and Chase looked at him in confusion, then glanced at House for help. He had a habit of doing that, always looking to House for guidance.

“Mr. Orderly, I’d like for you to meet Richard Langley, the head of the hospital.” House told Chase, who suddenly understood why this guy gave off an air of control.

“Oh, fuck.” Chase breathed. “I’m sorry, Mr.-”

“Doctor.” Langley corrected. “I went through a lot of years of med school. I’d like to be recognized for it.” Chase glanced at House.

“How have you put up with this guy? Is he serious?” He asked quietly, speaking in his usual accent since only House could hear.

“I haven’t, and yes, he is.” House sighed. “Mr. Langley-”

“Dr. House, it has been more than long enough for you to know not to call me that.” Langley said, fixing House with a gaze.

“Right. Sorry. Mr. Langley,” House began again, causing Chase to snort, “I quit.” House said without emotion, walking around his superior. Chase smiled slightly, although he was as shocked as the Dean of Medicine, and followed House.

“That is quite a shame, Dr. House. For this hospital to lose a mind like yours… what a sad day indeed.”

“Don’t care, and neither do you.” House said, Chase at his side. “You only care that your bargaining tool is leaving. You use me to get more for this hospital. Better insurance, better deals with insurance companies, more patients, you name it. Now, like I said, I quit.”

“Greg,” Langley called. House sighed and turned to face him. “I’ll double your salary.” Langley told him. 

“This isn’t about the money,” House told him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s about the fact that I don’t like you, or anybody else in this hospital. You’re an idiot, and your methods are flawed and unreasonable. You’re going to run this place to the ground, and I can’t stand around to watch anymore. The woman who started this hospital worked too hard to build it up. I won’t watch her life’s work go to ruin for nothing because of an idiot.” House turned back and hit the button on the elevator, gesturing for Chase to follow him inside, which he did. The doors closed, and they were finally on their way back to the lobby. Chase could only hope the taxi was still there.

When the doors opened to let them into the lobby, Chase gasped and pushed House against the wall, careful of his leg. “Fuck,” He cursed. The officials from the state were there with a gurney and an ambulance to take House away. They stood at the nurses’ station, appearing to be asking questions about their suddenly missing patient.

Chase hid his former boss behind himself. “What now…?” He asked.

“We go out the back way.” House said.

“Where the ambulance drop off is? That’s where they’re waiting for you, House!” Chase bit back quietly.

“No,” House growled, trying to push the Aussie off him. “The fire escape.” He told him.

“Can you even make it to the roof?” Chase asked, concerned. “You’re weak, and your leg-”

“I’m _fine_ ,” House told him warningly. He didn’t want Chase questioning his health, physical or mental, during all of this. “Be concerned about not going to jail, not whether or not I can make it down the fire escape.” Chase sighed.

“Why am I always facing jail time whenever I’m trying to help you?”

“Because you’re an idiot who keeps trying to help me.” House replied. “And if you keep me pinned to this wall any longer, I’m going to start thinking naughty thoughts.” House smirked, raising an eyebrow at Chase. Chase groaned, rolled his eyes, and got off the pervert.

“Stay close to me. Don’t let them see you.” He said, leading House away from the lobby. They went to another elevator around the corner, hitting the top floor. Once they were at the top floor of the hospital, Chase knew they’d have to climb a set of stairs to get to the roof, then make their way down the fire escape. How would House be able to do it?

“I can read your mind, and it’s screaming concern.” House rolled his eyes. “Stop worrying, Chase.”

“How can I not?” Chase countered immediately. “What if they find us? I’ll go to jail for kidnapping a patient, and they’ll take you away.”

“So don’t let them find us. Simple as that.” House shrugged, gripping the handrail of the stairs tightly and starting to pull himself up, struggling. His body shook with the effort. Chase walked over to him, easily taking the one step up the stairs to stand beside House.

“Here, lean on me.” He said, hooking their arms together. House stared at Chase for a long moment, intimidating him, but Chase didn’t back down. He was used to that look. Eventually, House looked away, allowing the Aussie doctor to help him up the stairs. House almost collapsed a few times, so Chase was grateful House didn’t push him away. After about five minutes, they made it up the flight of stairs.

Once on the roof, Chase and House walked over to the fire escape. It was about ten flights of stairs, and Chase suddenly realized just how high up they were. House wouldn’t be able to do it.

That wasn’t stopping him, though.

House let out a sigh, then began the descent, forcing Chase to begin as well. “There must be a better way,” Chase said, grabbing House’s arm before he fell and broke his neck.

“There isn’t.” House said. “I won’t be locked up, and I won’t let you be locked up because I don’t want to be locked up. I… want to stay with you, Chase.” House said quietly. Chase blinked in surprise. This was so uncharacteristic of House; to suddenly act sentimental, then go back to being himself. It was giving Chase whiplash. But…

“Then it will happen.” Chase swore. “I won’t let them take you away.”

“And I won’t let them put you in jail. I’ve kept you out of jail before. I can do it now.” House said seriously, staring Chase in the eyes, silvery blue meeting blue. Chase shifted slightly at the intensity of the gaze. Chase knew House was protective, he just never thought the man felt it this intensely. Chase swallowed hard, then nodded. House didn’t say anything more. He simply began descending the fire escape again, Chase at his side. It took them about thirty minutes to make it all the way down the fire escape. Chase was relieved when they finally stepped onto the street. House was sweating with the exertion and pain, hissing through his teeth. Chase grimaced, then wrapped House’s arm around his shoulders so that most of his weight was on him instead of his leg.

“We’re almost to a car.” Chase told him.

“Don’t make me hit you.” House said through his teeth. “Almost isn’t there. Don’t talk unless we’re _there_.”

Chase didn’t respond. He kept House standing until another taxi came to pick them up, and finally, they were back on the way to the airport.

“I’d just like to point out that we would’ve already been on a plane to Australia had you not gotten out of the cab.” Chase sighed, slouching in the seat and loosening his tie, exhausted. He’d gotten next to no sleep in the last twenty-four hours. He glanced at House, who was watching the hospital fade from view out the window. This would be the last time he’d see it. House closed his eyes, memory after memory after memory attacking the forefront of his mind’s eye, like a montage of everything that had happened in the last twenty years since he’d began working there. Everyone he’d met, every case he’d had, every party he’d attended, every joke he’d made, every law he’d broken, and everyone he’d lost. Twenty years. Twenty damn years dedicated to this hospital.

And for what?

For them to kick him to the curb when he’d cried out for help. For them to abandon him. For them to simply want to ship him somewhere else, not wanting him to be their problem. House had no one anymore. Everyone was gone. Yet, somehow, Chase had been contacted, and for whatever other reason House was still trying to figure out, he’d flown all the way back to America, broke him out of the system, and risked everything he’d built in the last three years since leaving Princeton to help him.

Why was his wombat doing this?

Chase watched House, that look of deep thought on his face that Chase had come to know. He couldn’t imagine what must be going through the older doctor’s head. Sadness? Hopelessness? Excitement at starting a new life, maybe? No, House wouldn’t be thinking this deeply if he felt any kind of joy right now. “House?” Chase murmured, concerned that House hadn’t made a snarky comment back at him when he’d blamed him for everything that just happened in the hospital. House glanced at Chase, acknowledging he’d heard him. Good. At least he wasn’t having an absent seizure or something.

“Shut up.” House told him. “I’m thinking.”

“You used to hate thinking alone.” Chase reminded. “You liked bouncing ideas off people, and weighing the options. Maybe you did it because you liked calling us idiots, but you still did it. Why not bounce ideas off me now?”

“This isn’t a case, Chase.” House said. “I’m not trying to get a differential from you.”

“It can be.” Chase shrugged. “Maybe it’s your case. ‘House: diagnosis unknown’.” Chase smirked slightly, making a dramatic rainbow gesture with his hands, as if the name he’d just given the hypothetical case was up in lights.

“That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.” House grimaced, looking back out the window.

“Irritability can go on the board of symptoms.” Chase smirked again.

“Chase, _shut up_.” House growled.

“Affronting attitude. Check. What else? Concerning amount of weight loss, abuse of drugs, isolation, suicidal thoughts and actions… I suppose an amateur would see this as nothing more than depression.”

“You’re an amateur, then.”

“I said _would see_. I know there’s more to this, House.” Chase said. “And I think it has a lot to do with the fact you can’t let the past go, because you didn’t know it at the time, but you were actually happy back then.” House’s stare bore deep into his soul.

“You’re an idiot.” He said.

“Good. Glad to know this whole idea bouncing thing hasn’t changed.” Chase smiled slightly.

“Chase, _Shut_. _Up_.”

“Okay.” Chase sighed, although he was still smirking slightly, leaving House to his thoughts as the American looked back out the window. Chase watched him a moment longer, then looked out his own window. He’d figure out what was going through House’s head, just like House was more than likely trying to figure out what was going through his. 

The rest of the ride to the airport was spent in silence. Chase wished House would say something. He didn't want to think about everything he'd just done for House, and it was scary. House was right, he'd just risked everything for him... again. Would Chase ever be able to stop that? Maybe not. He sighed, and stared out the window. This was promising to be a long trip back to Australia.


	4. Airport Shenanigans

It took them well over an hour to get to the airport because of traffic, and Chase was thankful he hadn’t bought the plane tickets when House had told him to. They would’ve missed their flight, and Chase was spending a small fortune getting not only himself to America, but getting himself _and_ House back to Australia.

House looked around the airport suspiciously, eyeing every cop or security guard they walked pass. What if some sort of alarm had gone out, and every officer in the county was looking for them?

“I didn’t even think about it. Did you want to grab anything from your place?” Chase asked. House glanced his way, being pulled from his paranoid thoughts, then shook his head.

“Nothing to grab.” He commented. Chase raised an eyebrow.

“Um, clothes?” He suggested. “Any other personal items?”

“Can’t grab anything if there’s _nothing to grab_ , wombat.”

“I don’t under-… House, are you telling me you don’t have a home?” Chase asked in shock, his voice not rising over a whisper. This was a private conversation, after all. No one else needed to know their business.

“Sold my place a few years back.” House told him, leaving Chase in shock.

“Where have you been living? In the hospital?”

“No.”

“The street?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then wher-”

“I was living with Wilson to take care of him during the chemo. I was trying to keep him comfortable until the end.” House said quietly. Chase didn’t have an answer for that.

“So you watched him deteriorate and die…” Chase summarized. House nodded.

“I saw him take his last breath.”

“And… after he took that last breath, you sold the place and was living… where?”

“On the street.” House said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

“I’m sorry, House.”

“For what? You didn’t kill him. You didn’t give him cancer.”

“Sometimes that’s what people do. They say stuff like that to show sympath-”

“You’re an idiot.” House said. “Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do, Chase. And don’t be _sympathetic_. Like I said before: I don’t want your pity. Do you really think I care about whatever emotion it is you’re trying to express? It isn’t real.”

“It’s not pity.” Chase said quietly. “It’s… It’s-”

“It’s what, Chase? Sympathy? Worry? Concern? I don’t want any of it.” House snapped quietly.

“If you don’t want it, then why are you coming with me to Australia? Why are you changing your entire life?”

“I need a change. You’re the bridge to that change. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“House-”

“Shut up.” House growled, and continued walking ahead of the Aussie doctor. Chase sighed. He couldn’t get House’s moods figured out. He’d be desperate for some sort of human connection one minute, and the next, he’d be ready to start a fight with whoever happened to be around him. Right now, that somebody was Chase. Had House developed some sort of mental disorder being alone for a year?

Chase wanted to roll his eyes at himself. House always had a mental disorder, but… it was different. He was still _himself_. He still had a grasp on reality, and his moods didn’t give him whiplash. If House was angry, he was angry. If he was happy, he was happy. Now, it’s almost as if he’d developed bipolar disorder.

Could being alone really cause that? Was House truly alone the last year since Wilson died? Nobody there for him at all?

Chase was scared of the answer. He walked to the line at the front desk of the airline to purchase his and House’s tickets, but saw House ahead of him. He walked up to stand beside him.

“That’ll be $3,872, sir.” The clerk behind the counter said nonchalantly, like that wasn’t a ton of money. Chase looked at House, pulling out his wallet, but House slapped his hand away.

“I told you I’d handle it,” Chase complained. House shook his head, handing the clerk his debit card. He didn’t say anything to Chase. Chase sighed and put his wallet away. The clerk finished the transaction, then handed House his card again.

“Enjoy your flight!” She said, ushering up the next people in line as Chase and House started walking toward their gate.

“I can’t believe you paid for tha-”

“You spent the money just to get here for me. The least I can do is get you home.”

“I could’ve sworn you were mad at me and weren’t speaking to me about three minutes ago.” Chase pointed out.

“Then you were wrong. As usual.”

“What is your deal?” Chase asked. “Why are you acting this way? This isn’t the House I remember. You’re not being yourself…”

“No. I’m not.” House agreed, then handed Chase his ticket as they approached the TSA. “Go home, Chase. You’ll land in Sydney. You can catch a bus to Melbourne from there.”

“Wait… What?” Chase said, staring at the ticket, slightly surprised House still remembered where he was actually from. “What about you?” He asked. House stared at him for a moment, then shook his head, walking away from him. Chase ran after him. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” House said.

“You don’t have a home! You just told me that!”

“Not here, no.” House murmured quietly.

“What is that supposed to mean? House?!” Chase called, trying to get his attention as House ignored him. Chase narrowed his eyes in anger and ran in front of House, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, fuck you, and fuck that!” He declared. “You’re not just dropping me off here! You don’t just leave after everything we just went through getting you out of that hospital! Everything I did to get you out broke at least a dozen laws! You owe me, House! You’re coming to Australia with me!”

“I _did_ owe you. That’s why I bought the ticket. Now my debts are paid. What do you want, my gratitude? Thank you, Chase, for jailbreaking me from PPTH. Now get out of my way.” House said lowly. Chase narrowed his eyes more and stood his ground, crossing his arms.

“And if I do? If I do just leave you here and go home, what then? What are you going to do? You just quit your job as well, you know.”

“I’m aware.” House said.

“Answer me, House!” Chase demanded. “What are you planning to do?”

“You’re too smart to play this dumb.” House told him. “You know what I’m planning to do. You just don’t want to accept it. You don’t want to be responsible, more than likely, having been the last one to see me. Now, _go home_ Chase.”

“No…” Chase said quietly, though his resolve was as strong, if not stronger, than before. “No, I won’t. Not without you.”

“Listen, wom-”

“Shut up, House!” Chase demanded. “You’re not pulling this. Not here. Not now. You’re going to get on that damn plane, or I’m staying too, and I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll be the annoying mosquito buzzing around you at all times. Now make a fucking decision! You either get on the plane, or you cause me to stay and lose everything I’ve worked for for you!” Chase said, his blue eyes ablaze with passion. He wouldn’t let House do it. He wouldn’t let him die.

House stared at the ground for a long moment. Chase was beginning to think he wasn’t going to answer. When he finally did, Chase felt his anger melt away, only to be replaced by sadness. “Chase,” House murmured quietly. “I need help.”

Chase knew House would never say that unless he was desperate, just like he wouldn’t have asked him to stay in the hospital unless he was desperate. Chase felt his chest lurch in sympathy for his friend. So he wasn’t crazy; House had noticed it too. House had realized he wasn’t acting like himself too. He had realized something was wrong with himself, and maybe that’s why he was doing this. He didn’t want to be Chase’s problem. Chase shook his head. The fool. Chase wanted House to be his problem. He didn’t trust him in any one else’s hands. No one else was capable enough to handle him.

Chase nodded. “I know.” He said, his tone much more gentle than it had been just a moment before. “It’s okay. I’m going to help you. But you have to help me, too, and stop fighting me every step of the way. When I ask you to do something, you need to do it. When I ask you a question, you need to answer it. That’ll be our biggest rule: if I ask you a question, you have to answer it truthfully from now on. And not one of your half-truths. No mockery, no sarcasm, nothing. Just the truth. We’ll start there, okay?” He said. House stood stiffly in front of him, shifting his weight from his good leg to his cane, and back again. He was uncomfortable, and he was hesitant about opening up like that. Chase knew that. He knew getting House to open up to him the way he did with Wilson would be difficult.

Baby steps.

“You don’t understand.” House said quietly. “I… I can’t.”

“Why?” Chase asked, making sure his tone was still gentle and even.

“Because I just can’t.” House glared at him. Chase shook his head, his arms still crossed.

“That’s not an acceptable answer. I need a _reason_ , House. Why can’t you open up to me?”

“Because if I do and then lose you, I won’t ever recover!” House yelled at him. “I won’t risk it again!”

“Because you’re afraid of the pain.” Chase said to himself. He placed a hand on House’s shoulder. “Greg,” He said, knowing he’d catch House’s attention by using his first name. “I’m here. I’m okay, and I’m not going anywhere. You can trust me.”

“People die, Chase. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Sure, you’re here now. Maybe even ten years from now. Hell, maybe twenty. But then one day, you develop brain cancer and fucking die, and then what? I’m alone in a foreign country?”

“That won’t happen.” Chase assured, trying to calm House down. His heart rate had to be excessive. Was House having a panic attack? Was… that possible? Chase couldn’t believe how different, how _fucked up_ , House had become in the last few years, especially in the year he spent alone.

Chase was brought out of his thoughts when he felt House’s gaze bore into his soul. Chase shifted slightly, not knowing how to respond to the intensity of the gaze. He was thankful when House spoke, but the words concerned him.

“You’re right.” House murmured. “It won’t happen. I won’t let it happen. I’ll make sure of it.” House grabbed Chase’s forearm and pulled him into the nearest men’s bathroom. House listened for anybody else in the plain restroom, then shut the door and locked it. Chase gulped.

“House, what are-”

“Quiet.” House ordered him, and Chase let out a sigh, used to taking orders from the man. When House lifted the sleeves of Chase’s dress shirt to reveal his arms, he figured he had the right to ask questions.

“House, _what are you doing_?” Chase asked again, pulling his arms from the other doctor’s grasp and taking a step back from him.

“Making sure you’re healthy.” House murmured, staring at the wall off to the side. “If you insist on me being honest with you, on everything you said before, then you have to let me make sure you’re not leaving before your time. I have to know you’re healthy.”

Chase was quiet for a moment. So to trade for House’s trust, he had to let the man run routine physicals on him? “How often?” Chase asked. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide. He honestly didn’t know why it made him feel odd about House knowing all his personal medical information. It just did.

“Whenever I say.” House said blankly, finally meeting the Aussie’s eyes. “If I have to act on your command, you have to act on mine.”

Chase resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What was this? Worry about being left alone again, or a power play? Was House messing with him? Chase knew how to play the game if that is what this was. House expected him to say no, to be resistant. If he gave in, and did the opposite of what House expected, he’d actually have the upper hand, even though he was doing what House wanted.

“Okay.” Chase nodded. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me medically as long as you’re honest with me, and do what I say as well.” Chase didn’t know why, but he felt the urge to get this agreement on paper and notarized by a judge. He knew House. Words meant nothing. Actions meant nothing. The man wouldn’t keep his part of the deal based on words alone. He needed something more influencing him. Jail time was usually the only thing that made House comply.

To Chase’s surprise, House nodded. “Okay.” He said as well. “Now give me your arms back.”

Chase sighed and rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt, relinquishing control of his arms for the time being. House gently gripped one of them in his hands again, and pressed slightly on Chase’s wrist, measuring his heart rate, Chase knew. Once House was satisfied that there was no random occurrence of arrhythmia, he noted the veins that showed easily through the pale skin of Chase’s arms. “You’re dehydrated.”

“Of course I’m dehydrated. I haven’t eaten, drank, or slept in over a day.” Chase told him, once again resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“You didn’t eat or drink on the plane on the way here?” House questioned.

“I don’t count pretzels as having nutritious value, just a way to stave off a blood-sugar crash.”

House looked away from Chase for a moment, then back at him, pulling the Australian’s sleeves down as he did. “Then let’s get you food. Now. Then I’ll get on the plane with you, where you will sleep.”

Chase actually _did_ roll his eyes this time. “Not how this is going to work.” He chuckled, smirking slightly. “You’re getting on that plane regardless of whether I eat or not. I let you check me over. I kept my end of the deal, House. It’s time for you to keep yours.”

House opened his mouth to argue, but three loud knocks on the bathroom door beat him to it. “Hey, is anybody in there?” A male voice asked. Chase looked at House, unsure of what to say. House had locked the door to a public restroom in an airport. America’s rules at airports were insane. They could probably get in trouble for this.

“Pooping!” House called to the guy.

“Sir, this door isn’t supposed to be locked.” The guy told House, as if House were slow.

“I am so sorry,” House feigned an apology easily, pretending to care as he talked slowly, as if just coming to the realization he was in an airport restroom. He opened the door for the man, who turned out to be a cop. “I am just so used to locking the door at home, it’s second nature now.”

“You two weren’t fucking, right?” The cop asked, sounding exasperated.

“No!” House and Chase declared at the same time, both their eyes wide, Chase’s cheeks slightly blushed from embarrassment at having someone assume that.

“That’s a yes.” The cop rolled his eyes. “Get to your gate. Now. You’re lucky I don’t charge you for public indecency and get you put on the sex offender list.”

“Two no’s don’t make a yes. And you’re not charging us, or doing anything of the above, because you have no proof.” House narrowed his eyes.

“It does if you’ve worked in my field as long as I have.” The cop said, using his baton to point them out the door. House and Chase took the hint, and both slipped out of the bathroom.

“Next time you want to be out of the public’s eye, a public bathroom probably isn’t the best bet.” Chase chastised.

“Thank you, Mr. Hindsight! I can see clearly now!” House said sarcastically.

“My hindsight has always been 20/20.” Chase shrugged.

“Glad you can see what should have been done perfectly.” House said. He led the way to the gate on Chase’s ticket, pulling the other one he’d stuffed in his bag out.

“You did buy yourself a ticket.” Chase noted. “You wanted to test me, to see if I really wanted you to come.”

“It’s a big life change. I’m not moving to another country so that you can change your mind.” House defended.

“I stopped taking your tests the day I stopped working for you.” Chase told him. “No more.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m a delight.” Chase smiled, giving House a cocky look.

“You’re annoying on your best day.” House told him, sitting at the gate with Chase as they waited for the boarding to begin. He glanced around, then pulled out his wallet and handed Chase a $50 bill. “Go get food,” He told him. “and a pillow so you can sleep on the plane.”

“House, I’m fine. I don’t need your mon-”

“Your hindsight may be 20/20, but your hearing is crap.” House told him, shoving the money in Chase’s direction, causing the Aussie doctor to sigh in annoyance.

“I am in my thirties. I promise, I have my own money. This isn’t about you taking care of me.” Chase told him, handing the money back. “I’ll go get _both_ of us food if it will make you feel better.” Chase said, standing up and leaving the gate. He could only hope House would still be in the same spot when he got back.

Chase came back about ten minutes later with a few ham sandwiches and some water bottles he picked up at a kiosk. He was relieved when House was actually still where he’d left him. He handed him his sandwich, then sat back down beside him. They ate in silence, which was fine by Chase. He could only take so much wit before his brain exploded. He’d had to be on his toes, matching House’s sarcasm and cynicism on no sleep, for too long now. On a normal day, he could do it. But he’d had a long couple of days. He couldn’t wait to be back in his home in Australia and…

Fuck.

Chase pulled his phone out of his pocket and hesitantly turned it back on. After about a minute, his phone hypothetically exploded with calls and texts, a majority of them from his team. Oops.

Chase ignored the texts from them, deciding to just call to get caught up instead. He called the conference room of his office, and when he did, the phone was picked up on the first ring.

“There you fucking are!” Mitchel exclaimed, sounding furious at the least. Chase could tell they’d put the speaker on on the office phone.

“Sorry, I… had to make a house call. My phone ran out of battery on the flight to America, and I-” Chase began to lie, but was interrupted.

“Our twenty-one year old is in surgery. She had renal failure.” Tyler told Chase, not seeming to care about Chase’s excuse. He raised an eyebrow.

“What makes you think it’s renal failure?” Chase asked, as if someone’s kidneys shutting down could be explained in a way where they weren’t shutting down.

“Um, because she was suddenly urinating blood.” Sanders said, and Chase could hear her narrow her eyes in annoyance. “Do you really think us that terrible not to be able to-”

“What did the colonoscopy tell you?” Chase asked, interrupting Sanders.

“If you would’ve read my texts, you’d know that it was clean.” Tyler answered passively, no venom in his tone. He seemed to be the only one who wasn’t showing his anger at Chase for leaving them hanging.

“Your version of clean or my version of clean?” Chase asked.

“I can send you a video of the procedure if you don’t trust us.” Tyler offered.

Chase nodded before realizing they couldn’t see that. “Yeah, do that. All right ladies, back to the drawing board. What causes intense abdominal pain, hangover-like symptoms without the hangover, and kidney failure?”

“There’s another symptom now, too, if you’d read your texts or answered your calls, you’d know that.” Mitchel sighed.

“This passive-aggressive game is getting boring.” Chase noted. “Just tell me.”

“Her erythrocyte sedimentation rate is at 100.” Sanders pointed out.

“That’s a little high.” Chase rolled his eyes. “Did you find what caused the kidney failure?”

“We can’t find anything wrong with them.” Mitchel informed Chase.

“Her kidneys beg to differ.” Chase said. “Now we need to find out what shut her kidneys down. What was her creatinine at before surgery?”

“5.7.” Tyler said.

“Start her on dialysis once she’s out of surgery. Then get her started on steroids to prevent any buildup of giant cell arteritis. I’m at the airport in America now. Keep her breathing until I land in Australia, won’t you?” Chase said, then hung up the phone.

“Isn’t being in charge fun?” House smiled, having listened to every word of Chase’s conversation with his team.

“Unless you have a suggestion for what this girl has, I don’t want to hear another word from you.” Chase sighed, placing his head in his hands.

“Did you check her heart?” House raised an eyebrow.

“Her heart? The problem is in her kidneys. And no, _I_ haven’t checked anything because I’ve been on the other side of the world with you.”

“Let’s say you’re on your way to work.” House began, causing Chase to shake his head and run a hand through his hair.

“Oh, no no no, don’t start with the metaphors.” He begged.

“Traffic’s moving smoothly. Everyone’s being kind and courteous, letting people merge onto the freeway when need be. But up ahead, there’s a roadblock. A few cars collided, and suddenly, there’s a multi-car collision. Now, you don’t want to be late for work, so you take the shoulder to the next exit, which leads you to a city you didn’t want to be in. In your hurry, you didn’t notice that you started a flow of traffic who were now all copying you as they, too, take the shoulder to the next exit into this town. The increased-”

“Okay, shut up, I get it.” Chase sighed. “The cars in traffic are the blood. The traffic jam is a blood clot that’s the result of a tumor, which was the collision of cars. Taking the shoulder to the exit is saying that since she had a blood clot, her blood took a different pathway to get to where it was being pumped. All her blood began taking this pathway, causing the extra flow and pressure to break off part of the clot and carry it with it to the town, which is her kidneys. The tumor cells that were taken with the blood took residence, which caused the kidney failure.” Chase said, looking at House. “She has a malignant aortic tumor that masqueraded as plaque and is being carried around her body by her blood. It’s cancer.”

House looked at Chase with such pride that Chase had to shift uncomfortably. “That’s my wombat.” House actually smiled, and the pride House showed in his eyes made Chase smile slightly despite himself. He always had a need to make House proud, and he couldn’t ever figure it out. He wouldn’t ever tell anyone, though, especially not House. He’d say it was Chase’s “daddy issues.” Right. Like he had daddy issues.

Chase took his phone back out of his pocket and called his team again.

“Chase, we’re waiting for her surgery to let out. We can’t do anything until the-” Sanders began, but Chase cut her off.

“Get our sorority girl started on doxorubicin and ifosfamide. Talk to Collins, too. She’s about to get a new cancer patient.”

“What?” Mitchel asked.

“She has a malignant tumor in her aorta. An occlusive aortic mass. It’s being broken off and carried around her system by her blood, and attaching to whatever organ it lands on. I’m more than certain the surgeon will tell you that when he finds the tumor on her kidneys.”

“No, she can’t… she’s only twenty-one. If you’re right, she’s got a year, at best…” Sanders said quietly.

“Tell her to get through her bucket list.” Chase sighed. “Mitchel, tell her and the family. Sanders, talk to Collins. Tyler, get her started on the medicine.” Chase told them, then hung up the phone. He looked at House.

“I have a whole new respect for you.” He said, which made House laugh, actually laugh.

“I never said it was fun being the boss.”

“But you made it look like so much fun, because you’d mess with everyone, especially us, and there’s nothing we could do about it, and Cuddy never _really_ did shit about it, so we just had to put up with it. If I tried that, I’d lose my job!” Chase exclaimed.

“You should’ve found yourself a Cuddy.” House said. “Someone who enables you.”

“That would be Tyler. He’s my duckling, not my boss.” Chase sighed.

“I could tell by the fact he was the only one who didn’t get upset with you. Although, I bet the other two have synchronized cycles right about this time, and you left Tyler there to fend for himself.” House pointed out.

“Shut up, House.” Chase told him, knowing his girls would’ve told House the same thing had they heard what he’d said. Chase looked up at the front desk when he heard an announcement over the loudspeaker.

“ _Flight 1582 to Sydney, Australia is now boarding. Passengers who need assistance, military, and others with a pre-boarding stamp are authorized to board at this time.”_ An overly-cheery flight attendant announced in a terrible Australian accent. Why did Americans try to copy accents whenever they left the country? Nine times out of ten, they sucked at foreign accents. Chase raised an eyebrow at House as the older doctor stood up.

“Where are you-”

“My seat, of course.” House said innocently.

“We’re group three.” Chase told him, looking at his ticket.

“No, _you’re_ group three. _I’m_ pre-boarding.”

“Who let that happen? You don’t need to pre-board.”

“I’ve got a bum leg.” House said, giving Chase puppy-dog eyes, his tone mocking. He handed the Australian his bag for Chase to carry, as well as his own. “See you on the plane.” He said.

“Or will you?” Chase sighed. After a stunt like this, he couldn’t trust House. “Did you take a first class seat and put me in coach?”

“Of course not. Why would you think I’d do something like that?” House feigned hurt.

“Because everybody lies, and you’re a manipulative bastard.” Chase said, quickly swiping House’s ticket from his hand. He pulled out his own and compared the seats. He blinked a few times. Their seats were actually next to each other… in first class? “You bought me a first class ticket?” Chase questioned. No wonder the price had been so expensive.

House didn’t answer, just took his ticket back and got in line to board. Chase knew how to speak House. That meant the man actually _did_ have a sentimental side. This was House’s way of showing appreciation and thanking him for coming all this way just for him. Chase smiled slightly as he watched House disappear onto the jetway. “You’re welcome.” He murmured to himself.


	5. The Mile Hi-ouse Club

It took another ten minutes, but Chase was finally able to get up and stand in line to board the plane. It took another five minutes after that for him to stow their carry-ons, then finally be able to sit in his seat. At least he didn’t have to look for it. He simply sat beside House and let out a long breath.

“I expect you to get some sleep.” House said quietly, that strange side of him coming out again. Chase still wasn’t used to House’s new moods.

“I will. It’s hard on planes, though.” He said.

“You’re in first class sitting next to someone you know on a flight that’s just shy of being an entire day long. There’s no reason not to sleep.” House told him, shooting down Chase’s excuse, and any excuse he could possibly use, in case he actually couldn’t sleep.

“I’ll do my best.” Chase sighed, looking at House as the American gently grabbed his wrist and took his pulse again. “House, I’m _fine_.” Chase assured. The guy was actually traumatized, wasn’t he? House was legitimately afraid of losing anyone else. Chase didn’t tug his arm back, though. He’d made a deal with House, so he let him take his pulse, although there was absolutely no reason to.

“You’re not fine until I can do a _real_ checkup. Complete with a MRI, blood work, echocardiogram, LP, and anything else I can think of.”

“What? House, this is ridiculous. You don’t need to shove needles into my spine and heart because you’re… in an odd mood. Where exactly did you plan to get all that done? Sorry to tell you, but I don’t keep MRI’s in my house.”

“You’re kind of a doctor, right? I assumed doctors worked in hospitals, where all the equipment I need is. Silly me. They must not have that stuff in the outback.”

“Even if you managed to get the dean of medicine there to let you use the equipment, you’re not licensed to work in Australia, or anywhere, for that matter. After what you pulled, I’m pretty sure your medical license won’t work. Not on a dead guy.” Chase sighed, running a hand through his golden locks. House fell silent. Chase supposed he hadn’t thought about that. He chuckled. “What? Did you think you had a sure-thing when it came to a job because of me? I can certainly put in a good word for you, and your world-renowned title helps a lot, but you can’t actually do anything until you apply for a new license. You’re gonna be relying on me for awhile, House. Getting a license to work in a foreign country takes a few months.”

House remained silent for a bit. Chase would know what he’s talking about, considering he went through it. House honestly hadn’t considered the fact he wasn’t licensed in Australia. When had laws ever stopped him before, though? “I’ll be fine.” He said. “I don’t plan on staying with you forever. I’ll be out of your hair in a month, tops.”

“You’re going to eat those words, House. I sure did.” Chase said quietly, remembering how long he’d stayed with House when he’d lost everything and was trying to get back on his feet. The duo fell silent after that. House stared out the window as the plane raced down the runway and took off into the sky. House felt the weightlessness as the plane ascended, his ears already popping from the lack of air pressure. He watched New Jersey fade into squares of land, rivers and lakes dotting the land here and there as forests covered other areas. He got upset whenever a cloud covered up his view. This was it. This was really happening.

He was leaving the only home he’d ever known.

House felt his chest constrict as a heavy weight settled into it. It was a feeling he’d become familiar with over the last year. House wanted to do nothing more than shut his eyes to suffocate whatever tears may fall. He couldn’t, though. He didn’t want to miss anything. He wanted to watch his home, where all his memories were, fade from view.

It was strange. He’d never experienced the feeling of leaving home like this before. To never come back… He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to pretend that everything was back to the way it should be, with Chase, Cameron, and Foreman as his ducklings, and Cuddy as his boss, and Wilson always just right next door to him, willing to play along with his games and enable him.

House just wanted to have his family back again.

He didn’t know it at the time. How could he have? How could’ve he known that he was happy, and that those few years would be the happiest years of his life? Even with Vogler trying to control him, and Tritter trying to incarcerate him, House had been happy. Through all the detoxes, all the fights, all the _shit_ that he’d gone through, including being shot, he’d been happy. The ones he’d wanted at his side were there.

And now they’re not. His ducklings finished their contracts, and therefor their fellowships, and went their separate ways. They’d left. House didn’t want to admit the sting he’d felt. When Foreman left, House was hurt, but knew it’d be okay. Foreman wouldn’t get far, and he returned… but not for too long. When Cameron resigned, House felt fear, he’ll admit. She could go wherever she wanted, which could be far away. With Foreman and Cameron gone, House couldn’t bear the thought of only having a third of his happiness with him. Either he had what he wanted, or he had nothing. Chase would never leave on his own. House knew it. He had to fire him.

It wasn’t until now that he realized he’d done it to hurt himself, not Chase.

Of all the teams he’d had in PPTH, Foreman, Chase, and Cameron had been his favorite. They’d challenged him, threw his wit and sass right back at him. They’d made him think harder. But more than anything, they’d made him smile. Laugh.

Those feelings of happiness and good humor became less and less foreign when he was with them. And after they’d left, they became foreign again. House wanted them back. He wanted to smile and laugh again, if only for a day. Just so he knew he could savor it and remember the feeling, so that he’d have warning this time before the joy was gone.

And he hadn’t wanted them to go. Sure, they’d stayed in the hospital for a little bit, taking on jobs that were demeaning to them. They could’ve done so much better. But that was just it, wasn’t it? They may have been in the hospital, but they weren’t _there_. They hadn’t been beside him every day anymore. This brought his thoughts back to Foreman, who actually did come back. It wasn’t willingly, though. Foreman fought him the whole way, and had made it known he didn’t want to be there.

When Cameron and Chase returned to the hospital, House had made almost any excuse he could to include them in his cases. Whether it be requesting Chase to do his surgeries for him, or getting Cameron’s opinion every now and then in the ER when he _accidentally_ wandered in there, claiming to be searching for almost anybody but Cameron. But hey, when in Rome. He may as well get her opinion on the case while there.

Hell, he even got Cameron and Chase’s opinions when picking a new team.

When he’d heard about Chase proposing to Cameron, he felt strange. He’d never had any of his fellows marry before. In a way, House was responsible for that union. He’d introduced them simply by hiring them. He had felt genuinely happy for them. He’d wanted them to make it, he really had.

House smiled slightly as he thought about hosting Chase’s bachelor party. It had been so much fun, despite that he’d been going through a rough time at the time. He remembered making a pyramid of shots alight with flame, and making Chase take the first shot of the night. He remembered the songs, the dancing, the lights, and of course the strippers. He wished Amber hadn’t tried to kill Chase during it, but hey. Shit happens.

House swiped at his eyes, holding back sobs. He wanted it back. He wanted it all back. He didn’t know, and it wasn’t fair… it wasn’t fair that he didn’t know to enjoy himself. He wanted to smile and laugh again, he wanted Cameron questioning and lecturing his morals and ethics, he wanted Foreman to pretend not to like him and then copy his mannerisms, and he wanted Chase catching everything he threw at him again, albeit the markers for the whiteboard, his large tennis ball, a file, or just anything he had in hands, really. He wanted Cuddy pretending to order him around, even though they both knew House would get what he wanted in the end. He wanted Wilson going along with the craziness that was his mind, letting House bounce ideas off him and sort through cases, gossip, and just having his back.

Damn it! He wanted his family back!

But he couldn’t have it again, could he? Never again. Wilson was gone… much before his time. Cuddy, Cameron and Foreman… they never looked back. House put his face in his hands. He was alone. Everyone who made him happy had left him, abandoned him. He was the one with the drug problem. _He_ was supposed to go first. He hadn’t wanted to helplessly watch anyone die. He’d wanted to go first so that he wouldn’t be left with the aftermath.

So that he wouldn’t be alone.

House swore he was going to have a heart attack from how badly his chest hurt, and he prayed to whatever higher power there may be that it would kill him. He couldn’t be alone. He knew he spent his life saying people sucked, that they were insincere and terrible and liars. But it was a defense mechanism. He didn’t want to care about anyone else, because they’d eventually hurt him. And they had.

House clenched his fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands as his eyes squeezed shut. Tears fell silently down his face. Alone. He was all alone. Bitterly, bitterly alone. Emptiness filled his heart. He was trapped on this earth alone. Nobody to make him smile, nobody to make him laugh, nobody to… to love him. House wished he had a bottle of pills, a knife, a gun, hell, even a fork and a power outlet in that moment.

He wouldn’t fail this time.

House stiffened when he felt pressure on his right shoulder, unused to being touched now. He looked over, and tears filled his eyes again.

Chase. He had actually fallen asleep, and he was laying his head on House’s shoulder. Chase had flown across the world for him, had come running when no one else had. Chase had come for him, had his back, just like he had in the old days. Just as House used to make Chase catch everything he threw at him, House had fallen, and it was almost like Chase had caught him before he hit the ground.

House felt an overwhelming surge of protectiveness for the Australian, which he couldn’t shove down, or even understand. He didn’t want to lose Chase. If he kept him healthy, kept him safe, maybe… maybe Chase wouldn’t leave again. Maybe he wouldn’t abandon him again. Maybe House didn’t have to be alone. Maybe he had one person left on this planet.

And House’d be damned if anything or anybody was going to hurt his wombat.

* * *

It had been fifteen hours, and the pilot had just announced they had just over an hour left of travel. House sighed in relief. His leg was killing him. He needed to stand up, stretch it, walk around further than just a walk to the bathroom. 

But more than anything, he needed his damn Vicodin. Chase was going to need to write him a script.

House clenched his fists in pain, sweating. He felt nauseous, and didn’t know if it was motion sickness or from his detox.

“You okay?” Chase whispered next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He knew all too well what House was like while detoxing.

“Do I look okay?” House snapped back, rubbing his leg. “The crater in my fucking leg fucking _hurts_.”

“We’ll land soon. Once we’re on the ground, I’ll-”

“You’ll write me a script for Vicodin.” House ordered, demanded. Chase winced slightly, seeming hesitant. Chase felt like how he used to, with House dishing out commands. Even though they were technically on the same level career-wise now, Chase would always think of House as his superior. House raised an eyebrow accusingly at him. “You’re not going to.” He stated, growled, through his teeth. It wasn’t a question.

“House, you tried to kill yourself with Vicodin. I’m sorry, but I can’t just give it back to you and let you have as much as you want like before. I’ll write you a script, but not for Vicodin.”

“What the hell do you plan on giving me, then?!” House whisper-shouted. He was still conscientious enough to not want their conversation public. Soon, though, the pain and the detox would completely override his inhibitions.

Chase bit his lip. House wouldn’t like his answer. “Ibuprofen…” He said. The look House gave him could’ve killed the entire Nazi army. Hell, that look may have made a _malignant tumor_ shrink in fear. “Hear me out-” Chase began, but House already had a grip on Chase’s shirt, pulling him close to intimidate him, their faces inches apart in the already cramped space of the aircraft.

“You know _damn well_ that won’t do shit.” House growled lowly. “I need Vicodin.”

“And I need to be able to trust you with it again.” Chase snapped back quietly, his sapphire eyes narrowing. “We had a deal, House. You have to trust me, and do what I say. I know what’s best for you right now.”

“Know what’s best for me?! If you had one day feeling the pain I feel, you’d be crawling on the ground begging your make-believe God to make it stop! That’s why your dad fucking left you, and that’s why your mom was an alcoholic! You’re a fucking weak coward!” House exclaimed, hoping his words cut as deep as his own pain. Chase sighed. House had hit the next typical stage for him: making things personal. Chase had expected this to happen eventually while they made their way to Australia, and while they were there. Chase hadn’t planned on giving House the amount of drugs that he wanted right off the bat. He’d been preparing for this mentally and emotionally. House was only doing and saying things now because he was desperate. Desperate and scared of the pain that was surely to come. Chase had to remain in control, and he couldn’t let the things House said and would say affect him.

“I’m sorry, House, but I’m in control, especially over this. You have absolutely no way of getting the amount of Vicodin you want from any other doctor in Australia besides me. Prove to me you can handle it, and I’ll give it to you. Until then, I guess you’re just going to have to keep attacking me.”

House’s eyes glazed over in anger, and Chase thought he was going to lose it. House had punched him out before without any hesitation during detox. Would he get violent again? Probably. Chase braced himself for whatever House was about to do, already trying to think of something to tell the police to get House out of jail time for assault. They were on an airplane, after all, and there would be plenty of witnesses to an attack.

Instead of attacking, House gripped Chase’s shirt a little tighter. “Then make a deal with me.” House said, his tone devoid of any emotion besides the pain that he was obviously trying to mask.

“Not really in the mood for a bet.” Chase sighed, knowing House loved bets.

“Not a bet. A _deal_.” House reiterated. “Before the pain becomes unbearable. Before I can’t take anymore.” House was already sweating, his hair plastered to his forehead. Chase sighed.

“I don’t know, House…” Chase hesitated.

“Give me Vicodin. I _need_ it. You can regulate the doses. You can keep the pill jar on you, make me beg you for a fix. I don’t care. Just give me Vicodin.”

Chase bit the inside of his cheek. It was a fair deal. And honestly, he felt much more comfortable prescribing House Vicodin if he got to give it to him instead of House just doing what he wanted with the pills. Chase sighed. “Okay.” He murmured. “If you promise to stick to your word about that, I’ll agree to the deal.”

“Fine,” House said, seeming to relax as much as possible. Knowing he’d get his fix soon made him feel better already. He rubbed at and massaged his leg, hoping he could stave off the worst of it until Chase gave him the Vicodin. How long would that take, though? They still had to land, go through customs, drive back to Chase’s place, then Chase would have to put the order in for the Vicodin, then they’d have to wait for it to be filled, then go pick it up… the more House thought about it, the more pain he felt. He wasn’t getting relief any time soon.


	6. Meeting Team Aussie

After about an hour, they finally landed. House now sat in the isle seat, having switched with Chase so he could stretch out his leg. House was holding back grunts, groans, and whimpers of pain. It hurt. It hurt so damn bad. He felt like someone was stabbing him with a rusty knife they’d let sit in a fire beforehand. Stretching out the muscle when he tried extending his leg only made the pain worse now. Rubbing and massaging it brought on an angry rage from hell like no other. House bit back a cry of pain, doing his best to not let the tears fall.

Chase looked over at his old mentor, concern etched on every feature of his face. House was in so much pain. Would he even be able to walk off the plane? Could he walk at all right now? Once the plane touched the ground, Chase pulled out his phone, knowing he’d have service again. It was nice to be connected to the world once more. He ignored the calls he’d missed and went through his messages. His team had updated him on the patient through the flight, telling him she made it through surgery and she was now Dr. Collins’ problem, knowing he wouldn’t be able to respond.

How thoughtful.

But he didn’t care about cancer girl right now. He cared about House. Chase made a group chat with his team, naming it Mystery Incorporated, and began typing.

 _‘Just landed in Sydney. One of you needs to do me a favor.’_ Chase wrote.

 _‘What’s up, mate?’_ Tyler responded.

 _‘Oi, how was the flight?’_ Mitchel asked. Chase ignored her for now, speaking to Tyler.

_‘I need a script for Vicodin. Max dose. Have it ready in the next hour. I’ll be at the hospital by then.’_

_‘You okay?’_ Sanders asked, reading the previous text.

 _‘Yes, I’m fine. It’s for a new patient I’m taking on alone.’_ Chase sighed, trying to get them to understand they weren’t helping with this one.

 _‘What’s wrong with the patient?’_ Sanders asked.

 _‘I’ve been trying to figure that out for years.’_ Chase responded.

 _‘Got the script in, mate.’_ Tyler told Chase.

 _‘Thanks. Be there in an hour, give or take.’_ Chase replied.

 _‘Why are we Mystery Incorporated?’_ Mitchel asked.

 _‘Because we solve cases nobody else can.’_ Tyler said with a winky face emoji. _‘Right?’_

 _‘I can always rely on you, Tyler.’_ Chase responded, then put his phone back in his pocket. He looked to his right at House again. He was barely keeping it together, but Chase could tell he was quickly losing strength and willpower.

“It’ll only take an hour or so to get to the pharmacy.” He told him. “Can you hold out?”

“Do I have a fucking choice?” House snapped.

“Are you going to be able to walk, or should we ask for a wheelchair?”

“I’m walking.” House said simply. He refused to use a wheelchair. He would never stoop that low. He’d used one once for a bet on a parking space. He wouldn’t use one again. That week had been a living hell, and he’d technically cheated anyway.

Chase sighed. At least they hadn’t checked any bags. Then it would take longer. He couldn’t wait to change clothes, though. And shower. How long had he been wearing the same stuff? He probably smelled horrible.

Chase shook away his problems from his head. House had much bigger problems. Chase made House wait until everyone else got off the plane, then helped him. Chase grabbed their bags, then took House’s arm gently to keep him steady. The last thing they needed was for him to collapse.

“Let me go,” House growled, struggling to make his way down the jetway.

“No.” Chase said stubbornly. “You need help.”

“No I don’t.” House countered.

“Sound argument. Just in case, I’m going to keep holding you up.” Chase rolled his eyes. “House, you can’t even think straight anymore, much less walk by yourself. Just hang on. You’ll be okay sooner than you think.” Chase assured.

He was able to get House outside with a moderate amount of trouble. House was clenching his fists the whole time, holding back every pained noise he wanted to make. Chase was relieved when he remembered where he’d parked his car, and got House into the front seat. The older doctor was breathing heavily as he took in his surroundings.

“You… drive a Mustang?” He asked.

“Love them.” Chase said, making conversation, hoping it’d distract House from his pain. “I would’ve bought one when I lived in America, but I couldn’t even keep a house back then.” He chuckled.

“Thought you’d drive a kangaroo.”

“I left my kangaroo at home. The fuel is more expensive, so I don’t drive it as much.”

House smiled, if only a little. “Guys don’t drive Mustangs. Not the newer ones. They drive the classic ones.”

“I like the newer ones because I live in the twenty-first century.” Chase smirked.

“I’m in too much pain to think of a clever comeback…” House groaned.

“You’ll have your drugs soon.” Chase promised. “Then you can insult me properly.”

“Good. I don’t want to miss any opportunities to insult you.” House said.

“I know.” Chase rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I know. You don’t realize how badly you insult me whenever you call me wombat.” Chase told him, hoping to make him feel better. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t go around saying that to people here. It doesn’t mean what you think it does here.”

“What does wombat mean? Isn’t it just a mammal native to Australia?”

“To you, yes.” Chase chuckled. “That’s why I never made a big deal out of the nickname. But here, it means a bloke that drinks the amber liquid, roots, and leaves.”

“I’m assuming ‘amber liquid’ is alcohol.” House guessed. “But what the hell does ‘root’ mean?” He raised an eyebrow.

“‘M not gonna tell you. I had to learn the American slang on my own. You can learn the Australian slang on your own.” Chase smirked. House groaned, then stared out the window.

The drive the rest of the way to the hospital Chase worked at, St. Vincent’s Hospital, was in silence. The only noise came from the car’s engine and the sound of the wheels rolling over the pavement. Sometimes, House would groan in pain, and every time he did, Chase would press down on the gas just a little bit more. By the time they reached the parking lot of the hospital, Chase had been going over one hundred miles per hour.

Chase parked in his reserved spot, then went around the side of the car to help House. “I can still get you a wheelchair, or even a gurney at this point…” He offered, though he already knew the answer.

“No.” House groaned simply. He limped his way to the entrance of the hospital, relying heavily on his cane a lot more than usual, and relying on Chase holding him up the way he was.

Chase led House to the elevator and hit the third floor button. Once the doors had opened again, he led the way to his office, hoping his team wasn’t in the attached conference room of his office. Chase had somehow managed to find an office similar to House’s back in Princeton, with glass walls surrounding his office and conference room. House raised an eyebrow when he noticed the similarities.

“Did you ask for this?” He wondered.

“Not really.” Chase said honestly. “But I wasn’t opposed to it when I was shown the office space. Made me feel a little more comfortable.” He shrugged. The offices weren’t decorated the same, of course, and the view out the windows would never be close to similar. While House’s office had been set up with a more business-like feel to it, Chase had made his more modern, complete with the abstract paintings and a Keurig coffee pot so that no one had to continually make coffee like they’d had to in America.

“Sit here,” Chase told him, helping House sit on the couch he had in his office. “I’ll go get your script from the pharmacy downstairs.”

“Scurry along, now, wombat.” House muttered to him, trying to rush Chase out the door. Chase rolled his eyes, then turned to leave, only for his team to walk into the office.

“Dr. Chase!” Sanders greeted happily, stepping forward to give him a hug, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Welcome back to the outback.” Tyler greeted as well, nodding at his boss.

“How was America?” Mitchel asked, raising a calculating eyebrow, glancing at the stranger sitting on Chase’s couch. Was he the ‘new patient’ Chase had mentioned? The one they couldn’t help him with?

Chase quickly hugged Sanders back, then gently pushed her off him and to the side. “Thanks, and good.” He answered Tyler and Mitchel. Now that his team had caught him, he knew he wouldn’t get away so easily. “Tyler, can you go pick up that script I asked for?” Chase ordered more than asked. The other blond Aussie doctor nodded.

“Sure, mate.” He said, leaving the room to go pick up the Vicodin. Chase had asked for a lot, and at such a high dose. He briefly wondered what for, but decided not to worry too much about it. He trusted his boss to know what he was doing. Chase had proved that time and time again.

“Who’s he?” Mitchel asked, gesturing to House. Sanders seemed to have just noticed him, and made a surprised noise.

“A friend.” Chase told the girls. He didn’t want them asking too many questions, but knew he couldn’t get out of it.

“Yeah, okay. Am I just supposed to let it go now?” Mitchel rolled her navy blue eyes, her dark hair falling into her face, only for her to flip it back.

“Preferably, yes.” Chase sighed.

“Is he that patient you were talking about before?” Sanders asked.

“Sorta.” Chase said through an exhale, hoping they’d get the message and just drop the subject. “And also, he understands English, among various other languages. You can just talk to him yourselves.” The girls adopted a comical look when they realized they had been talking about this guy like he wasn’t in the room.

“Oh, sorry!” Sanders apologized, looking at House. “I’m Dr. Sarah Sanders. I’ll be working with Dr. Chase to find out what’s wrong with you.” She said professionally. House raised an eyebrow.

“And I’m Dr. Violet Mitchel.” Mitchel introduced herself. “You’re obviously not an Aussie. Did Chase smuggle you from America? Are you the reason he left so suddenly? Why couldn’t you have talked to a doctor in your own country? How did you even discover Dr. Chase?”

“Wow, you ask a lot of annoying questions.” House rolled his eyes. This one must be the one that gave Chase problems. She reminded him of someone, although he couldn’t place a finger on it at the moment. “Hi, I’m Dr. Gregory House. I am not Australian. I was not smuggled. And I am not a patient.” House said, his tone telling this Mitchel woman that, yes, he was answering her questions, but not happily.

“Dr. House?!” Sanders’ green eyes widened. “ _The_ Dr. House?”

“The one and only.” House responded, getting sick of this. He didn’t want to chat. He wanted his damn meds.

“The one Chase worked with?” Sanders asked.

“Yes, that one.” Chase responded for House. He’d seen the look in the other man’s eyes, and knew he was about to go off on the girls. Chase was relieved when Tyler came back with the pill bottle.

“Here,” He said, handing it to his boss. Chase nodded in thank you, then uncapped the bottle and handed two of the Vicodin to House. The others stood, watching in shock as House gratefully swallowed the pills dry.

“Chase, I don’t think that-” Tyler began, but was interrupted.

“He’s fine.” Chase assured, knowing no one else should’ve been given that amount of Vicodin. House relaxed into the couch, waiting for the Vicodin to kick in. Sweet relief.

“So when do we get the crash cart for when his liver shuts down? Thirty minutes? An hour?” Sanders raised an eyebrow.

“He doesn’t need a crash cart.” Chase sighed. “Trust me. I’m going home. Call me if Watkins gives me a case.” Chase told his team.

“You just saying that or will you actually answer your phone this time?” Mitchel raised an eyebrow, causing Chase to roll his eyes.

“Let it go.” He said, helping House back up, only for the older man to pull out of his grip, claiming to be fine. Chase walked with House out of the room, and the older man seemed to be able to walk okay again. Chase led the way out of the hospital, seeing the exit in sight. He just had to make it, and then-

“Dr. Robert Chase.” A voice called, making Chase flinch and freeze. Damn it. So close. He turned to face the man who’d called him, House turning as well. This was interesting. Someone actually called Chase by his first name.

“Dr. Watkins.” Chase smiled innocently, as if he’d done nothing wrong. “Nice to see you.” He lied.

“You’ve been gone for four days. You left your department in the middle of a case to, in Dr. Sanders’ words, ‘go to America’ for a… house call, I believe was your excuse?”

“Right. That.” Chase shrugged, chuckling. Maybe his charm could get him out of this. “Sorry, I would’ve put in for the time, but it was an emergency.” Chase told Watkins. “I’ll do some time in the ER to make it up to you.

“Robert, I have looked the other way countless of times, let you run dangerous, insane, unethical, and immoral tests on your patients that shouldn’t have ever been approved. I cannot keep letting you get away with things. I understand you have quite the name to live up to, but-”

“What I do has nothing to do with my father.” Chase said, his good humor gone at the mention, and assumption, that he was trying to be his father. “I’ll work overtime.” He said finally, then turned and left with House.

“This conversation isn’t over, Robert!” Watkins called. Chase groaned deep in his throat.

“Well. That was interesting.” House smiled, looking at his duckling.

“That was Phillip Watkins, Dean of Medicine and head of this hospital. If you want your tests, he’s the one you’ll have to talk to.” Chase sighed. House looked back at the head of the hospital.

“Shouldn’t be hard. Not the strongest, or tallest, looking guy. He should be easy to intimidate.” House said nonchalantly, making Chase chuckle.

“Good luck. He won’t give you those tests you wanted, especially if you tell him they’re for me.”

“Do you not know who you’re talking to? I always get what I want.” House said. “So… I see that you’ve learned a lot from me, including how to be unorthodox, and the most important thing, how to annoy your superiors.”

“Your way works.” Chase shrugged. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, we found the answer. If it works, it works. I’m saving lives, aren’t I?”

“And that’s what you tell Watkins? How often does it work? What have you done?”

“Not often.” Chase chuckled. “He doesn’t seem to see things like Cuddy had. She liked you, and put up with your craziness because she knew it worked. Watkins just thinks I’m crazy and leaves it at that. I have pulled one from your book before. I separated a patient’s CNS from their body, wanting to see if the problem was the brain or not. I’ve also killed someone, hypothetically, to let a disease run rampant in their body so I could get more symptoms from them. Get this: it was Lupus.”

“Get the fuck outta here.” House chuckled, hearing what that patient had had. Chase was smiling too. “I’m so proud.” House said, wiping an imaginary tear away. “Watkins seems like a prick. Do you really care if he likes you? If anyone does?” House raised an eyebrow.

“No. I don’t care. I really don’t care. It’s just-”

“Ah ha.” House smirked. “You do care whether someone likes you or not. No surprise, really. Between your awful childhood and terrible love life, you’re probably desperate for love and people’s approval. Now the only question is whether or not-”

“I thought this was all about you, not me.” Chase said, annoyed. He hated it when House analyzed him because the guy always hit so close to home. “Let’s just go home.” Chase sighed, leading House back to his car. Once they were on the way home, Chase relaxed a bit more. He needed a day or two to recuperate after everything. He’d flown to America and back in a matter of what? Two days? Three? He hadn’t even gotten any real sleep, or any real food. He couldn’t wait to be home.

“You’re right.” House said quietly beside him, causing Chase to glance at him in shock before looking back to the road.

“Um… about what?” He asked.

“I’m deflecting.” House sighed, staring down at the floorboard of the car. “You and I both know who you are, and your motives behind everything. I don’t have to keep reminding you of your past.”

“Are… Are you apologizing?” Chase asked in disbelief. “Are you being a human being? They didn’t give you psych meds at PPTH, did they?”

“I’m clean.” House assured. “Maybe a little loopy after my first dose of Vicodin in days.”

“About that,” Chase began. “Your body will probably try to reject it after what you did. Vicodin is the last thing your body wants to process right now. I honestly can’t believe you’re able to take it without vomiting.”

“I’m full of surprises.” House smirked, holding his hand out for another pill. He was already hating having to get them from Chase. He’d have to find a loophole in that plan somehow.

“No. It’s barely been an hour since the first dose. Wait at least two more.”

“Fascist.” House grumbled.

“Yeah yeah.” Chase sighed. He drove the rest of the way home in silence, letting House mess with the radio. Chase was relieved when he finally pulled into his driveway. “Finally,” He breathed, more than prepared to shower and fall into bed. He got out of the car and went to his front door, unlocking it. Home sweet home.

Chase walked inside and hung his keys on the keyring, then hung his jacket up in the hallway. He then turned to face House, suddenly remembering he wasn’t alone anymore. “Oh, right.” He chuckled as he watched House look around, taking in the place. It was a single-story house. The kitchen was connected to the dining room through an open archway. On the other side of the kitchen, the spacious living room sat nice and tidy-looking, a rather large TV mounted on the wall. Beyond the living room, a bathroom was at the beginning of the hallway that led back into the bedrooms. Luckily, Chase knew he had a spare room for House. He didn’t want to think about having to share a room with the man, and he certainly couldn’t have forced House to sleep on the couch. His leg wouldn’t be able to take it.

“It’s nothing grand.” Chase said humbly. “But it is my first _real_ place. I’m lucky they let me get it, considering my credit is still recovering after everything.” House nodded, suddenly looking exhausted himself. Chase knew House’s moods well, and was able to read him like a chapter book pretty easily. He wasn’t quite up to where Wilson had been, but he had a feeling he’d be able to read House like a picture book soon enough.

Right now, the older doctor needed sleep.

“C’mon, I’ll show you your room.” He smiled slightly, leading House down the narrow hallway to the back bedroom. “There’s a bathroom connected to it. Separate shower and bathtub. The bath is a jet tub, so I know you’ll like that.” He said, pointing House to the bathroom. “The closet’s through there.” He said, pointing to another door. “It’s a walk-in. Oh, and check this out.”

Chase walked to the bedside table and took out a remote, pressing a button on it. Above the bed, a part of the ceiling opened up like a skylight, revealing the stars overhead. “Please don’t open it when it’s raining.” Chase smirked, feeling rather braggy, handing the remote to House.

“You’re no fun.” House said, taking the remote, but not closing the skylight. He had to admit, that was pretty damn cool. He liked it. This room was perfect. He didn’t have to go far for the bathroom, and it came with a jet tub? Maybe this place could help his leg…

“You need sleep, and so do I.” Chase said. “We can talk more in the morning, make a plan of action and figure some things out.” He said, taking House’s Vicodin bottle out of his pocket and placing a pill on his bedside table before re-pocketing the vial. “Night, House.” Chase said, turning to walk from the room. He was stopped by a cane hooking into the back of the collar of his shirt. He coughed before stumbling backwards, turning to face House. “The hell?” He exclaimed, rubbing his throat.

House didn’t answer. He simply took Chase’s wrist in his hand again, feeling for his pulse and getting his heart rate. He wished he had more equipment to do get an actual reading of the Aussie’s vitals. Chase sighed, allowing House to do as he pleased. He’d need a lot of reassurance to understand that people don’t normally just up and die one day. He wasn’t going anywhere. He just needed to convince his old boss of that.

Chase didn’t move until House finally released him. Chase waited a moment, then spoke. “You good?” He asked. House stared at the ground, nodding. Chase nodded once as well. “Good.” He said. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

With that, Chase left the room, the intensity of the moment still lingering on him. House had moments where he acted like himself. Then there were _these_ moments; the moments that made Chase wonder what the hell was going through the American’s head to make him act so… Chase didn’t even have a word for it. Needy? No. That wasn’t it. Desperate? House _was_ desperate, but he wasn’t acting desperate, either. Chase felt his heart clench when the next word went through his mind.

Broken.

House had finally broken. After forty something years, he’d been broken. He’d lost everyone he’d cared for, even if he’d never admit to caring for them. His life was torn from his hands, and Wilson’s death must have done him in. House kept checking his heart rate because… Chase didn’t know for sure, but he had a theory.

House wanted to make sure that Chase was real. He needed to know this was all real, and that Chase was alive and healthy.

If that was true, though, that would mean something had given House a reason to think reality was fantasy. Was he hallucinating? Had he just completely lost his grip on reality? Chase would believe it if House said it. It was almost like House didn’t believe any of this was real. It was like he was just accepting whatever was thrown at him the last couple of days, as if he thought he’d wake up soon and none of this would have happened.

Chase sighed when he shut the door to his own room. He was suddenly too mentally drained to shower. He’d just do it in the morning. Instead, he stripped out of his clothes into his boxers, and slipped under his comforter in bed, sighing as he laid down. He shut his eyes, sleep overtaking him immediately, the last of his thoughts fading away.

House needed help. If all these tests and exams are what he needed to assure himself, then Chase would allow House to check his heart rate a million times over. The blood work, CAT, MRI, EKG, Echo, and all the others, however… Chase sighed. He only had to put up with it once… Right?


	7. House's Mental Instability

House laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was sweating, and his heart was racing. He could feel it. He could feel everything. He could feel the ceiling fan gently move the air, he could feel the comforter rubbing against his chest, he could feel the throbbing pain in his leg...

And he could feel Wilson’s gaze on him as he watched him from the corner.

House stared at the dark corner, knowing, logically, there was nothing there, but seeing Wilson nonetheless. “Haven’t you tortured me enough?” He murmured.

“Apparently you’re not done with me yet.” Wilson shrugged. “Why, House? Of everybody that you’ve lost, why are you imagining me?”

“I’m not imagining you, I’m hallucinating you. Big difference. You’re not my imaginary friend, you’re my dead friend. And your asking these questions is redundant, since you’re a figment of my own mind, and if you don’t have the answers, then I don’t either.”

“Maybe your mind is trying to talk to you then.” Wilson suggested. “Maybe you haven’t grieved, haven’t had closure. Are you seeing anybody else? Cuddy, maybe? Your father?”

“Nope.” House said, popping the ‘p’.

“Then why-”

“I don’t know!” House shouted, frustrated, knowing Wilson’s words before he said them. They were his own thoughts, after all. “I don’t know…” He murmured more softly, more defeatedly.

“Do you wanna know?”

“Of course I want to know.” House growled at him.

“You miss me.” Wilson shrugged, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall of the corner he resided in. “You loved me.”

“Completely platonically.” House defended. He couldn’t argue that point, though, because he knew it was true. His mind knew it was true.

“Platonically or not, it’s true.” Wilson reiterated.

“I’m not denying it.” House whispered. “So stop saying it.”

“Why? Are you afraid to love? To show vulnerability? To show weakness?”

“Hey, you want to know what’s interesting? The way fetuses are ripped limb from limb as they’re aborted, probably screaming if they could. That pain wouldn’t compare to the pain of the headache I feel having to listen to your damned, irritating voice.” House said, hoping the shock factor of his words was enough to pull him from this hallucination. It wasn’t. Wilson was still there, smirking knowingly, smugly. His mind wouldn’t let him fade away. House needed to prove he wasn’t there.

House got out of bed and limped over to the Oncologist. “You’re enjoying this.” He said.

Wilson shrugged again. “Of course I am. This is interesting. You like interesting things. You need a puzzle, House? You’re your own puzzle.”

“You’re not real.” House stated.

“Which is interesting, which brings me back to the whole ‘why hallucinate _me_ ’ thing.”

“It’s not interesting. It’s boring. It’s a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep and a recent drug OD. Also, I just took Vicodin again. I could just be high.”

“You’re looking for any reason to rationalize this, and refuse to face the truth.”

“There is no truth to be faced. I’m high. Maybe I’m even dreaming. I was laying in bed, after all.”

“You’re avoiding this. You’re a coward.”

“And you’re dead. I win.” House shrugged mockingly.

“Yeah, I’m dead. So why are you hallucinating me?”

“God, you’re like a broken record.” House said. “Leave me alone, Wilson.”

“And you’re like the guy who was stranded alone on an island and made a volleyball of his best friend out of loneliness. What’d he name that ball again?” Wilson glanced up in faux thought, as if he didn’t know.

“William.” House answered, though he know he was full of it. “Get out of my head.”

“But it’s so spacious in here, like nothing’s going on.”

“You’re hilarious.” House rolled his eyes. There was more going on in his head than ever before.

“And you’re still avoiding your problem. What are you doing exactly, anyway? You practically beg your _ex-employee_ to drag you around the world for what? You’re here now because that employee happens to have a giant heart and issues of his own, issues you plan to exploit for your own gain, don’t you?”

“Leave Chase out of this, Wilson.” House growled lowly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“You’re using him. You’re a parasite that’s holding him back, and will probably bring him down with you. You’re toxic. You’re going to poison him. You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve the kindness and patience he’s shown you. You’re going to kill him, too. Pretty sure one hallucination already tried that. My dead girlfriend, right?”

House reeled back and threw his fist forward, punching Wilson across the jaw. At least, so he thought. As soon as his fist connected with Wilson’s jaw, the hallucination faded, and House’s fist connected with the wall that had been behind his dead best friend instead. He punched a hole in it, causing a loud crunching sound as dry wall fell to the carpet at his feet, and the bones in his hand cracked. House was breathing heavily as what he’d done dawned on him. He couldn’t feel the pain from his broken hand. All he could think about were Wilson’s words. Not Wilson’s…

His own.

Wilson was his own mind, saying the things he was too scared to think. Wilson was right; his mind was trying to talk to him, and House didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear the incriminating words, the ones that damned him, the ones that he was afraid of.

“House?!” Chase knocked on the door. House cursed himself quietly. Of course the Aussie heard the wall. He’d woken him up, and Chase needed to sleep. Two seconds later, Chase was in the room, already looking at House’s purple and black right hand. It was obviously broken. Didn’t Chase notice the wall? Didn’t he care that in less than twelve hours of being in Australia, House had caused damage to Chase’s home?

“You broke it.” Chase said. “C’mon, I need to get you to the hospital so I can take care of this.” Chase said, already pulling on a coat and handing one to House.

“No.” House whispered. “I’m fine.”

“Are you kidding?” Chase gaped. “This is part of that, ‘you have to do what I say,’ thing. Now let’s go.” He took the wrist of House’s good hand and dragged him out to the car. House didn’t argue anymore, or fight him. He just felt… numb.

Once they got to the hospital, Chase ordered for an x-ray, and the nurses complied quickly. Soon enough, Chase had House in radiology, wearing a lead vest with his hand where the X was on the table. Chase was thankful he didn’t have to tell House how to position his hand for the x-ray. Usually patients had no idea what to do.

“I’ll be back.” He said softly, going into the other room to start the pictures. House stared blankly at his hand, and Chase watched him through the glass, concerned. What had happened? Why had House decided to punch his wall out? Was he actually losing it? Did he actually need psychiatric help? So many questions ran through Chase’s mind, and he began to wonder if it was a bad idea taking House away from the system.

House’s broken skeleton popped up on the computer and Chase sighed. He shut the machine off and went back to his old boss. “Congrats. It’s a fracture.” Chase told him. “Let’s get you a brace.”

“You’re not even going to ask why?” House finally spoke up. Chase shrugged.

“You’ll talk when you’re ready.” He said. “I’ll deal with each problem as you present them to me.”

“I’m hallucinating.” House said quietly. He looked to Chase, expecting some sort of reaction, _wanting_ a reaction, but he seemed unimpressed. “Deal with that."

“I figured.” Chase responded, unfazed. He went through some drawers and pulled out a brace, carefully securing it to House’s hand.

“It’s Wilson.” House told him, trying to get a reaction. Why hadn’t Chase gotten mad? Why wasn’t he upset? Why wasn’t he showing any emotion?

“Figured that, too.” Chase said.

“How?” House raised an eyebrow. Chase shrugged.

“It made sense. I didn’t spend all those years working for you and learn nothing.” Chase sighed. “You were also yelling. I heard every word you said when you thought you were talking to Wilson. You had to have known he was a hallucination.”

“I did know.” House said quietly. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.”

“It does. Knowing means you can learn to control it. It also means you should’ve known better than to act on anything he said, since it wasn’t real.”

“Hallucinating doesn’t mean anything.” House rephrased. “I was tired. I had just come off an OD. You had just given me Vicodin. There were a plethora of reasons why I could’ve hallu-”

“And yet, of all the exhaustion-fueled, drug-fueled hallucinations you _should have_ hallucinated, if those were indeed the causes, you hallucinated Wilson, your dead best friend. You hallucinated him because you miss him, which is normal, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it. You should confront that sorrow head-on instead. You’re human, House, whether you want to be or not.”

House was quiet for a long moment, staring at the ground. He then looked to Chase. “It was nothing.” He insisted. “Is Watkins still here?” He asked, wanting to change the subject away from himself.

“You’re not gonna avoid this that easily. You can’t just-”

“Is Watkins still here?” House asked again, his tone more firm this time. Chase sighed.

“Probably, and I’m not dropping this. If you’re hallucinating because of grief, there are treatments we can-”

“Cool, let’s go talk to him.” House said, standing up and walking out of the x-ray room like he knew where he was going.

“I’m not going away.” Chase rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly as he followed after House.

“Good, since I want to talk to him about you.” House said.

“Er… what?” Chase raised an eyebrow. “Unless it’s to give a shining recommendation, there’s no need for you to talk to him, especially about me.”

“About the tests.” House said. “And about a job.”

“You won’t get either.” Chase told him, wanting to save House the trip and breath. “You can’t practice medicine in Australia, and he won’t approve useless tests, especially on one of his doctors.” 

House only continued down the hallway seeming unaffected by his hand, which had to be in pain.


	8. House's Secret Concern

“You do know who you’re talking to, right?” House mocked. “He’ll do what I say.” House found Watkins’ office easily enough, even without Chase’s help. He walked in confidently and stood in front of the dean of medicine’s desk. Watkins raised a grey eyebrow at the American doctor.

“Can I help you?” He asked, noticing Chase walk in after House, looking exasperated and annoyed.

“Yes. We met earlier, when you were talking to Dr. Chase.” House said.

“I remember. My gratitude, for bringing my runaway doctor back so I can finish punishing him.” Watkins said. Chase opened his mouth to answer, but House beat him to it.

“I’d like to run some medical tests on your head of diagnostics.” House said.

“Sir… the mental ward is upstairs, on the third floor. Robert, could you show him-”

“I’m a doctor.” House said. “Doctor Gregory House. Chase here used to work for me.”

“Ah. Yes, of course. Your reputation precedes you, Dr. House. I’ve heard much about you… all true?”

“Most likely.” House shrugged. “Now, about those tests…?”

“No.” Watkins said. “You may be a magnificent, if not somewhat of an ass, doctor in America, but that’s in _America_. I will not allow you to run tests in my hospital, even on another doctor, even if said doctor used to work for you. Are you the reason Robert fled the country so suddenly?”

“Chase left the country. Surely you cannot permit him to work on his patients without some tests! He’ll need a TB test, along with others to make sure he didn’t contract something in the foreign, filthy country known as America.” House said.

“TB isn’t prevalent in the United States. It’s not a third world country, Dr. House.” Watkins rolled his eyes. “But… I admit you have a point.” He sighed. “Robert, you will need to have someone on your team draw some blood.”

“Or I could do it now.” House said. “A lot quicker than calling his team in the middle of the night.”

“Dr. House, I admire your brilliance, and your manipulation skills to an extent, but you are an American doctor, not an Australian one. You are not permitted to practice medicine here.” Watkins argued.

“This place is even more discriminatory than America.” House rolled his eyes. “How do you know? You haven’t seen my license, or any sort of ID. What if I am permitted to work here and you’re turning down the chance to have me here?” Chase sighed, and took a step forward.

“If I could interject…” Chase began. “Just let him do his tests, Watkins.” He sighed. “Trust me, it’s a lot easier than dealing with an irritated House. He’ll get what he wants in the end, he always does. Just… give him what he wants now before he forces the issue and causes problems.” Chase wasn’t necessarily excited about House getting so into his personal medical records, but if it would help him realize Chase wasn’t a hallucination, then it would be worth it.

“You expect me to go along with this? You’ve asked some insane things of me in the past, Dr. Chase, but if word gets out that I’ve allowed an unqualified American to run tests-”

"Unqualified?" House repeated in disbelief the same time Chase answered.

“On me.” Chase clarified. “The only liability would be if the patient sued. _Then_ the hospital would be in trouble. I obviously won’t sue. And House is right. I left the country, and could’ve brought something back. He…” Chase sighed. “His blood’s worth bottling. You should consider him.” He argued, though he knew he had brought nothing back with him in terms of disease. He brought a person instead.

Watkins sighed and stared at his desk for a long moment. “This will be done _now_ , when there are less people here. You are to stay out of sight, and if someone asks, Dr. House is a med student, and you’re letting him practice. If word gets out, you’re fired. Do I make myself clear, Robert?”

“She’ll be right.” Chase responded. He looked to House and turned away, walking out of his boss’ office. House followed him.

“You threw in slang there. You’re not allowed to say things I don’t understand to keep me out of the loop. What did you tell him? I can guess what the blood bottling thing means, but who’s she?” House asked.

“There is no she. It basically means I understood. You’re in my country now. Time for you to learn the language.” Chase smirked.

“Piss off.” House said in an Australian accent, having already picked that phrase up.

“We have to work fast. What did you want to do first?” Chase asked, smiling slightly from House’s failed attempt at slang, and even worse attempt at an Australian accent.

“Blood’s the quickest. Then I’ll drag you to wherever the MRI is.”

“Is that really necessary, House?” Chase questioned. “Isn’t blood enough?”

“No.” House murmured, his tone leaving no room for argument. Chase sighed, knowing House was in that mood again, that mood that Chase still couldn’t figure out.

“Okay.” Chase said quietly, accepting his fate.

“Did you bring my pills?” House asked. Chase nodded and reached into his jacket, handing him one of his Vicodin.

After taking the pill, they went into one of the exam rooms, and Chase hopped up onto the exam bed, kicking his legs instinctually. House went through the drawers until he found syringes and vials for blood. He took out an IV line and four vials. He limped back over to Chase, who’d already rolled the sleeve of his right arm up, and had sanitized the insertion point, even had managed to tie off his arm by himself.

“You done drugs before, Robbie?” House mocked, seeing how skilled Chase was at setting himself up for needles.

“I went to med school, too, House.” Chase rolled his eyes, easily masking that, yes, he'd done drugs before. It was a long time ago, though. He'd only been a kid, and it was because of his shit situation as a kid. “Can we get this over with? I’m losing another night of sleep for this.” He sighed.

“Not much for foreplay, are you?” House inquired, extending Chase’s arm and finding the vein. He carefully stuck in the needle of the IV line, impressed that Chase didn’t even flinch, and watched him as well.

House held the line, then inserted the first vial into the other end of the IV, and it was almost like the blood was sucked into it. Chase watched, then looked at House. “Why do you think you want to do this?” He asked. “Why do you need to run all these tests on me?”

“Don’t start.” House rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to analyze my every move like Wilson did.”

“I think you’re hallucinations are causing you to lose a grip on reality. I think you’re questioning who’s real and who isn’t. I think you think this is all a dream, just like when you were shot. You are disconnected from reality.”

“You’re an idiot.” House said. “None of that has anything to do with these tests.”

“You didn’t deny it.” Chase noted.

“Yes, I’m hallucinating Wilson. No, it’s not affecting my grip on reality. I know he’s not really there.” House said, sticking in his third empty vial and taking blood. Chase wondered when he’d done the second.

“I think you’re in denial.” Chase said.

“You and Wilson should stitch that on a pillow, maybe get a sewing circle started together.”

“Is he here now?” Chase asked. “Wilson, I mean.”

House looked up at Chase from the IV, then glanced to the corner where Wilson leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, then looked back to Chase’s blood. “No.” House said.

“There’s one thing you drove home when I worked for you.” Chase sighed. “I believe it was ‘everybody lies’.”

“I never lie.” House assured, causing an exasperated noise from the Intensivist. House got his four vials of blood, then took the IV out of Chase’s arm, carefully putting a bandaid on it to help the blood clot. “Where’s the lab?” He asked Chase as the younger doctor rolled the sleeve of his sweater back down over his arm. House was rolling the slightly warm vials between his hands.

“Just around the corner.” Chase said. “Put a fake name on the vials.” He instructed, tossing House a Sharpie from one of the drawers as he started cleaning up the IV line and the syringe. House chuckled as he caught the pen easily. Chase looked at him. “What?” He asked.

“You switched our roles.” House said, writing ‘Richard Chance’ on the vials, making Chase glare at him when he saw the name.

“What do you mean?”

“Usually I’m the one tossing you whatever it is I have in my hand.” House told him. Chase thought back to all the times he’d caught a marker, or House’s ball, or even a file that House had thrown at him.

“You bounced that ball off my head, arsehole.” Chase reminded, making House smile.

“And yet, you didn’t stop me.”

“The shock of it left me speechless.” Chase defended.

“You really shouldn’t be shocked by me anymore.”

“One would think.” Chase sighed. “C’mon.” He opened the exam room door and they walked to the lab. House handed Chase the blood, and hung back as Chase went inside the lab. “I need this tested for the basics.” He told the dark-skinned female nurse at one of the microscopes. She glanced at it.

“Richard Chance?” She raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Richard Chance, Robert Chase?” She smirked slightly, finding the similarities humorous. She didn’t really care who the guy was.

“New patient of mine. I have to get the basic tests out of the way to get Watkins’ approval on anything.” He rolled his eyes. The nurse nodded.

“I understand. You’ll have the results in the morning.” She said, and Chase nodded.

“Ta.” Chase said lazily, then walked out of the lab back to House. “MRI?” He guessed.

House nodded. “MRI.” He confirmed. “Let’s go.” Chase sighed and followed House, who seemed to be following the signs to the MRI room. Once there, House searched the place until he found the hospital gowns, tossing one to Chase, then locking the MRI room door. “Get undressed.” He told Chase. “But don’t put the gown on.”

“Um… what?” Chase stared at House.

“Full body means full body, _doctor_. Inside and out.”

“I’m leaving my underwear on.” Chase said firmly, taking his shirt off, then his pants. House put a stethoscope on, and Chase briefly wondered where he’d found it. House put it against the pulse in Chase’s arm, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around the upper part of his arm. House smirked, making Chase self-conscious.

“What?” Chase questioned.

“Gosh you’re pretty.” House mocked, remembering how self-conscious Chase had gotten after the speed dating fiasco. Had he really not known he was attractive?

Chase sighed, already exasperated with this. “Why didn’t you do this in the examination room?” He asked, sitting down on the MRI.

“You had to get undressed here anyway.” House said. “No reason to see you naked more than once.” He walked over to the Aussie doctor.

“See me naked more than once? House, you went out of your way to expose Cameron and my secret relationship. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before. Cracking a fat, nonetheless!”

“When you were making out in the janitor’s closet? Yeah. That was fun.” House smiled.

“You’re a cunt.”

“Hi, I’m Gregory House. I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

Chase couldn’t help but chuckle. He breathed slowly while House got his blood pressure. “111/72.” House told Chase, who smirked.

“I’m perfect. Ready to stop this yet?”

“Nope. That’s the verge of perfect. I want a nice number in the middle.” House replied, popping the ‘p’ in ‘nope’. He removed the blood pressure cuff from Chase’s arm, then moved the stethoscope to Chase’s back to listen to his lungs. “Deep breath.”

“I know.” Chase whispered, knowing how loud it could be for the doctor examining the patient. People didn’t seem to realize how sensitive stethoscopes were, and when they spoke at a normal volume while being examined with one, it was deafening.

The room fell silent as Chase focused on breathing deeply. Once House was satisfied with Chase’s lungs, he hung ‘his’ stethoscope around his neck, done with it.

“Thermometers?” He asked Chase, who pointed to a drawer across the room. House limped over to it, grabbed one of the thermometers, and limped back, handing it to his former employee. Chase stuck it in his mouth with an eye roll.

“Stow the ‘tude, wombat. It won’t make this go any easier or quicker.” House told him. Chase shrugged, not able to talk. After about a minute, the thermometer beeped. House took it out and looked at it. He looked disappointed.

“98.7.” He told Chase.

“Told you. I’m perfect.” Chase smirked. "Also, you may want to start using celsius."

“ _Near_ perfect. I’d like for you to be a tenth of a degree lower. And I'll never use that communist form of measurement.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Chase asked, shocked, putting on the hospital gown so that he was finally covered up, if only a little. He didn’t want to be exposed anymore.

“Get in the damn MRI, Chase.” House said, gently pushing the Aussie down to a lying position. Chase sighed and let House guide him down.

“House, seriously, this is completely unnecessary. I’m fine. Can I please get a few hours sleep before I have to work in-” Chase looked at his watch. “four fucking hours.” He groaned. House took Chase’s wrist and took his watch off, then stuck it in his pocket.

“Sleep during the MRI.” He told him. “You know it takes about an hour.”

“You’re granting me a whole hour of sleep? Who are you, and what have you done with House?”

“You’re hilarious.” House said, making sure Chase wasn’t wearing anything else metal. Once he was sure Chase was clean, he hit the button to move the table of the MRI into the actual machine. House went into the adjacent room, and began the test. He watched the images carefully, looking for anything abnormal. The MRI was especially important to him. If he found anything, anything at all, he’d start Chase on chemo, whether he wanted it or not.

He wasn’t losing someone else to cancer.

Inside the MRI, Chase blew air out of his lips like a horse would, bored out of his mind. MRI’s were so much more interesting when you were watching the images, not getting the images done. He wanted to squirm, to move, but knew House would simply make the test last longer. He’d get the images he wanted.

“You think too loud.” House’s voice came over the intercom in the machine. “I thought you were going to sleep.”

“It’s harder to sleep in here than I thought.” Chase sighed. “I knew this thing was loud, but damn.”

“You’ve never been _inside_ the MRI?”

“Never needed to be. _Still_ don’t need to be, but a sociopathic American doctor thinks I do, so here I am.”

“He sounds like a good doctor.” House replied.

“So he likes to think.” Chase smiled.

“The proof is in the pudding.”

“He’s also a bit narcissistic.”

“He’s aware of and acknowledges his accomplishments, so he’s narcissistic? Seems unfair.”

“Life’s not fair.” Chase smiled. The duo fell into silence then, and Chase found his eyes drifting shut despite the noise. He was so tired. He fell into a light sleep. The banging noise soon became a sort of rhythmic lullaby he used to stay asleep. In what seemed like only minutes later, he was woken up by the table moving out of the MRI.

“You’re clean.” House said when Chase was free.

“I told you.” He said, sitting up and holding his arms out for his clothes back, which House handed to him.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Since when do you play it safe?” Chase asked, slipping his pants back on first, then taking the hospital gown completely off to put his shirt back on. He was happy to be dressed again.

“I’ve always played it safe.” House responded, placing a hand over his heart and pretending to look hurt.

“Right.” Chase rolled his eyes. He put his watch back on and sighed, seeing the time. “C’mon. Let’s go to my office. I’m at least going to sleep on my couch for a few hours before my team gets here.”

“I don’t know the way back to the house, Chase.” House said.

“You’re staying with me during my shift, and you wouldn’t be driving my car anyway.” Chase told him, leading the way to his office.

“I know how to drive.” House reminded incredulously.

“You’re not on my insurance yet, and until I can trust you, you’re not leaving my sight. Plus, I don’t trust you to drive on the right.” Chase led House into the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor.

House had many things run through his mind at Chase’s words. He could barely sort through everything. He tried to organize at least one thought into words, then into a question. “You’re gonna attach us at the hip until you deem me mentally sane? You may as well propose, because I will never be leaving your side in that case.”

“Only if I top.” Chase rolled his eyes. “Not at the hip, but I’m keeping you somewhere where I can keep my eye on you.”

“I am not the girl here. Your hair’s too fabulous to be the guy.”

“I’m the guy.” Chase stated. The elevator doors opened then, letting the duo out.

“You’re putting me on your insurance so I can drive your car?”

“Until you’re able to support yourself again, yes. You don’t have anything to your name right now, House. I’m not just gonna leave you hanging.”

House was quiet at that. He didn’t know what to say. Chase was doing so much for him. Sure, House had done it for the wombat first, but that was different. He was used to inviting people, namely Wilson, to live with him and taking care of others, supporting them when they needed him most. He wasn’t used to people taking care of him, outside Wilson, of course. Whenever he needed someone, they always seemed to let him down, and it had started when Stacey left him when he was at his lowest. He remembered how long Wilson had taken him in after he’d gotten out of Mayfield, though. House sighed. The things Wilson had done for him could fill a book.

Now if only he’d stop judgmentally staring at him from a corner of every room he went into.


	9. Talks with Chase's Chase

House followed Chase into his conference/differential room. He was surprised to see Team Aussie already there. Did they ever leave, or even sleep? House checked his watch. They’d left the hospital around nine the night before, and it was six now. Really? Maybe he _had_ ended up falling asleep for a bit the night before.

“Mornin’, mate.” Tyler greeted with a wide smile. Chase nodded his way by means of a greeting. He was exhausted, and knew he’d fall asleep at some point today. He hoped it wouldn’t be during this differential, seeing the newfound file in Mitchel’s hands.

“Morning,” Mitchel said, not looking up from the file she was reading.

“Morning,” Sanders said at the same time as Mitchel, looking Chase’s way, noticing House behind him.

“Good morning, everyone.” Chase said through a tired sigh. “What do we have?” He asked, looking at Mitchel with the file.

“Forty-three-year-old male presenting with- hey!” She complained as House took the file from her and sat at the head of the table. “Dr. Chase, please, he can’t be allowed to-”

“And yet, he is.” Chase sighed. “Don’t tell him no. It only encourages him.” 

“He’s got sickle-cell anemia.” House said, reading through the file and the symptoms the patient complained about.

“He’s black, so you chose a disease that would only affect blacks?” Sanders raised an eyebrow. This guy wasn’t racist, was he? “Sickle-cell is usually diagnosed a lot younger.”

“Unless you’ve got a better suggestion?” House said back. Sanders stayed silent and glanced at the table.

“It’s hard for her to debate it when she hasn’t seen the file.” Mitchel complained.

“Obviously she read the file, or she wouldn’t have known the patient was African-Ameri-… black.” House said, correcting himself. He wasn’t in America anymore. Mitchel huffed at his words. How could Chase allow this guy to take over?

Chase looked over House’s shoulder to read the case. House lifted it a little so Chase could read it better. Chase glanced over the boring parts of the patient’s history to get to the stuff he needed. He sighed.

“Sickle-cell is possible. Go ahead and test his blood.” He told the team.

“You don’t have to kiss his arse anymore. You do know that, right?” Mitchel asked. “You’re the department head here, Chase. Not him.”

“I’m not agreeing with him because he’s House, I’m agreeing with him because I think he’s right.” Chase said. “Now go run the test.”

Sanders and Mitchel stood up, Mitchel with a groan, and left. Chase turned to Tyler, raising an eyebrow. Tyler shrugged.

“It doesn’t take three doctors to run one blood test.” He said. Chase pursed his lips, then shrugged in agreement.

“What do you plan on doing then?”

“Getting to know the world-renowned doctor you’re standing behind would be pretty cool.” Tyler smiled. Chase snorted.

“Have fun.” He said, going into his office and beginning to work on the discharge papers from his last patient, the sorority girl.

House watched Chase leave the room, wishing he wouldn’t leave him alone with this guy. Bloke? He needed to try and learn Australian slang. He looked to the blond doctor before him, beginning to wonder if every male Australian was some blond, surfer guy with perfect hair and bodies.

“So…” House sighed out. Tyler chuckled.

“Relax.” He smiled. “I just want to chat. What’s it like in America? Never have been there myself.” He thought that if he got House talking about home, that he’d relax a little more. House raised an eyebrow at this guy.

“Fat and annoying. Everything you’ve heard is true.”

“Everything I’ve heard can’t be true. You’re forgetting the other stereotype. You’re not bewilderingly patriotic.”

“Oh, right. We ride our bald eagles to work with the American flag in one hand and an AK-47 in the other, Toby Keith blaring from our freedom speakers. We send our kids to school to learn how to do almost everything but be an adult. One of those is a lie, and it’s not the bald eagle thing.”

“I bloody knew it.” Tyler laughed.

“Speaking of stereotypes,” House began, “Chase said he left his kangaroo that he drove to work at home, but I didn’t see it. Please tell me you brought yours.” House said, pretending to plea with the young Aussie doctor, clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Sorry, mate. My kangaroo is at home with my koala. Our lord and savior, Steve Irwin, is busy taming my pet crocodile there, too. They’re all named Crikey because I can’t afford another name.”

“I think I’m going to like you.” House said, leaning back in his chair. Tyler smiled.

“Big compliment, coming from you.” He said. “So I’ve always wondered why Chase went to America after med school in the first place. More importantly, how he got a fellowship under you. He must’ve been incredible.”

“Chase has his own reasons for coming to America. That’s up for him to tell you. As for why I hired him, his daddy made a phone call.”

“Rowan Chase called you? To ask you to hire his son? That’s… odd…”

“Rowan didn’t ask me to hire his son.” House told Tyler, looking at Chase through the glass separating the conference room from the office. “He asked me not to hire him.”

“What? Oh my God…” Tyler’s hazel eyes were wide in surprise. “Why would he do that? Does Chase know?”

“Don’t know why he did it, though I have my theories. And no. Chase doesn’t know, and I intend to keep it that way.” House said, sending an intimidating glare over to Tyler.

“I won’t tell him.” He promised. “But, surely he’s asked you why you hired him?”

“Yes.” House said. “And I didn’t lie to him.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Daddy made a phone call.”

“I thought Rowan asked you not to hire Chase?” Tyler questioned.

“He did, which piqued my curiosity.”

“So you hired Chase because he was… interesting?”

“I like puzzles. What made him more interesting was his interview.”

“What happened?”

“He never mentioned Rowan once. Never tried to use him to get the job. He stood his own ground. Surely the son of a big shot Aussie doc would’ve used that to his advantage, but Chase never did. I was expecting him to walk into my office and drop his father’s name like it was nothing, like he was entitled to the job because of who his daddy was. He did the opposite.”

“He avoided, still avoids, anything when he’s compared to Rowan.” Tyler summarized.

“I’m still trying to figure out why.” House said, still staring at Chase through the glass.

“From what I know, mate, Rowan wasn’t that great of a father. And Chase’s mom was pretty shit too, wasn’t she? Heard she liked her alcohol.”

“Yes.” House said, already knowing both of those facts. Chase was an anomaly House had yet to completely figure out. He knew enough to manipulate the boy, of course, but didn’t know _everything_ , not yet.

“Hey, I’m gonna go do my clinic hours. You good to be here by yourself?” Tyler asked. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” House raised an eyebrow.

“Well, there’s gotta be a reason Chase brought you back from America. I’m assuming something’s wrong with you.”

“Something’s wrong with everyone.” House said simply, waving Tyler away. Tyler opened his mouth to answer, then closed it, and left with a smile and a nod. House sat in silence for a bit, then sighed, and walked into Chase’s office. “I need pills.” He told him.

“I need a billion dollars.” Chase uttered, not looking up at House.

“Good luck with that.” House said, stretching his hand out in front of Chase’s face to get his attention. “Mine’s a little easier to attain.” Chase sighed and put his pen down. He reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out House’s pills, giving him one. House raised an eyebrow.

“I need two.”

“They’re in your system now. You only need one.” Chase replied.

“Chase,-”

“You’re not winning.” Chase said, sticking the bottle back in his pocket and picking his pen up again, the tail end of it immediately going into the Aussie’s mouth. House watched him, almost forgetting about the blond’s oral fixation. He’d lost count of the amount of chewed pens he had to replace in his office. It was annoying at first, but after Chase was gone, House had missed finding chewed up pens.

“You can’t determine my pain just because the pills are in my system now.”

“You came in here looking for an argument, House, because you’re bored.” Chase said, looking up at him. “If you’re bored, start researching how to get your license updated so you can work here.”

House wanted to argue, just like Chase had said, but he was right. House groaned and sat in the chair across from Chase on the other side of his desk. It was weird being in this position with his duckling. It was weird not being the one behind the desk.

House pulled his phone out and began googling how to get qualified to work in Australia. It seemed like he needed to take a few classes to prove he was actually a doctor, get some paperwork signed, and he was golden. The problem was that he didn’t want to take any classes. He’d cheated his way through med school once, he didn’t want to cheat his way through it a second time. It was almost an insult to make him go back to school just so he was qualified to work in another country.

“Is this serious?” House asked, looking at Chase.

“I’m guessing you realized you’re going back to school?” Chase said, glancing at House only for a brief second before looking back at his paperwork, smirking.

“This is asinine. I’m not doing it.”

“Then you’re never going to get your fix of solving the case again.” Chase shrugged. “I won’t be bringing you to work for the rest of my career. You won’t always be allowed to pitch an idea into one of my differentials.”

“I was right.” House stated.

“I never said you weren’t. I just said that I’m not going to bring you here forever. If you want to keep playing doctor, you’re going back to school. Now, would you like a blue or a black backpack?”

“There must be a way to test out of the classes.” House narrowed his eyes.

“You’ll have to talk to the university you’d be going to.” Chase told him. “House, there’s no way around this. I had to do another year of med school in America to get qualified. You must’ve known that, if you ever looked at my resume.”

“I’m not you.” House complained, sinking into his seat and crossing his arms in a pout. Chase chuckled.

“No. You’re not.” He agreed.

The duo fell into silence as Chase began his paperwork again. He looked up when a woman walked into his office after about fifteen minutes. It was the doctor from the lab, and she was holding the results for the blood tests, Chase assumed. He smiled at her.

“Dr. Chase, here are the results you asked for.” She said, handing him the paper.

“Thank you.” Chase said, taking the sheet. The woman turned and left, probably needing to go run other tests. Chase barely had a chance to quickly scan the sheet before House snatched the paper from him. Chase sat back in his own chair and crossed his arms, looking at House smugly. He’d seen enough to see the results of the tests.

“Wipe that look off your face, wombat.” House ordered when he looked up from the paper and handed it back to him. Chase was completely clean and healthy.

“I told you it was all unnecessary.”

“And if you’d actually had something? What would you have said then?” House raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t consider it, because I knew I was fine.”

“Well, perhaps you should go tell Richard Chance that he’s healthy, then, too.” House said.

“And leave you here with my unlocked computer, unlocked paperwork, unlocked pager, unlocked desk, and unlocked office? No. Wherever I go, you go. But, seeing as how Richard doesn’t exist, I guess we don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Lucky us.” House sighed, leaning back in his seat again. He began googling universities in Sydney, wondering which one was the most prestigious. Not that it mattered. He just needed to update his license, dammit.

It was silent a bit longer, and Chase ended up finishing his paperwork for the sorority girl. He’d pass it along to Watkins when he got the chance. He closed the file and set it to the side, chewing on a pen as he did. When his space was cleared, he looked at House and watched him for a moment. House glanced at him, feeling his duckling’s stare.

“Again, if you want a staring contest…” House said, trailing off. Chase rested his arms on his desk, crossing them over each other.

“What did Tyler want to know?” He asked, folding his hands together. House shrugged.

“The usual. My autograph, a picture, and a statement for some blog he’s running about amazing doctors. Strange he hasn’t asked you.”

“Ha ha.” Chase rolled his eyes. “Seriously. What did he want?”

“Wanted to know what America was like. He might ask you if people flew eagles to work. Just go with it.”

Chase snorted. “Right.”

“Did you know he keeps Steve Irwin in his house? Bastard’s making him fight crocodiles on a daily basis.”

“Steve Irwin’s been dead for years.” Chase reminded House.

“Really? Huh. Then Steve Irwin’s corpse is fighting crocodiles on a daily basis.”

“I believe it.” Chase said with a shrug. “Somehow I doubt you spent the whole conversation discussing eagles and Steve Irwin. He asked you about me, didn’t he?”

“Maybe.” House shrugged.

“What did you tell him?” Chase asked.

“That you’re a wombat. Don’t know what it means, but he didn’t punch me, so obviously it’s not as bad of an insult as you made it out to be.”

“Tell me, or I’ll start using nothing but Australian slang, and will instruct _my_ team to do so as well.” Chase only spoke like this so that House would understand him. In a way, he knew House must know that, too. Hell, even his team had toned down the slang so that the American would know what they were talking about.

“You’re cruel.”

“Tell me, House.” Chase asked again. House was quiet for a long moment.

“He asked why I hired you.” He said. Chase raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise. He hadn’t expected House to actually tell the truth, and much less for that to be what Tyler had wanted to know.

“Daddy made a phone call?”

“Daddy made a phone call.” House confirmed. Chase raised an eyebrow again, suspicious, but nodded. He seemed satisfied. Good. House didn’t want to tell him everything, not that he would. He needed to figure some more things out about Chase’s past before he delved more deeply into the reasons he’d hired him. “Oh, and you’re pretty.”

“Can’t forget that reason.” Chase chuckled. House smiled slightly, too. “Why’d you hire Cameron and Foreman?” Chase asked. House shrugged.

“Had to have at least one woman, and Cameron was the best of the pick. Plus, I wanted to know why she married a dying man. She was a beautiful woman that became a doctor, even though she could marry rich. She had something to prove, which would mean I could manipulate her, and she'd work hard. Foreman had an interesting past, too,what with the grand theft auto and all.”

“You hire people based on their pasts, not their accomplishments?”

“They gotta be smart, too. That’s what makes them more interesting. The ‘overcoming adversity’, and all.”

“Like you care about that.” Chase chuckled. “You don’t give two shits about what someone’s overcome. You only care that they’re where they are. That they went to med school, so obviously they’re smart, that they have some sort of past, and they present you with a puzzle to figure out when there’s no case. That’s why you invade their privacies. Now the question is this: what puzzle did I present you with to get you to hire me?”

House smirked now. Forget being smart enough for House to hire him. Chase was brilliant. “That is the question, isn’t it?” House answered, taking one of Chase’s chewed up pens from the pen holder on his desk. “Maybe you should spend the next week obsessing over that and trying to figure it out.” House grabbed a sticky note, too, scribbling something onto it, then tucking it into his pocket.

“Maybe I should.” Chase smiled. He knew how these games went. House wanted his mind to be consumed with this in a hope to distract him from something else. Unless… he didn’t. Maybe it was reverse psychology, and House wasn’t distracting him, and just wanted to mess with his head, and…

It was working. Dammit, whatever he’d written on that sticky note must’ve been the answer, too. Chase groaned and sat back in his chair, his hands covering his face. “Don’t do this to me. Not so soon. I haven’t been able to sleep.”

“Poor you.” House said. Chase moved his hands from his face when his team walked in. 

“Results are negative, right?”

“Yeah, how-” Sanders began, but Chase stopped her.

“I’ve walked this road a time or two. Usually at this point, there’s another symptom.”

“Um… yeah. The guy’s vomiting blood.” Tyler said.

“Could be autoimmune. Obviously something’s wrong with his blood.” Mitchel suggested.

“If he’s vomiting blood, that blood has to be coming from somewhere. Anyone check for organ failure?” Chase asked. The trio before him stood quietly, looking everywhere but at their superior. Chase rolled his eyes. “Mitchel, check his liver and his kidneys. Sanders, run another tox screen just in case, this time with his hair _and_ his blood. Tyler, stay out of my personal life and start checking for autoimmune disorders our patient could have instead.” He said. The team nodded, Tyler looking slightly embarrassed, and left the room, heading off to do what Chase told them.

“Oh, look at you. How adorable.” House said as the team left to run the tests. Chase leaned back in his office chair, his hands behind his head in a relaxed position.

“What’s it like seeing one of your fellows succeed like I have?” He asked. “To know that what you taught actually helped?”

“You’ll know if one of those three idiots ever gets to that point.” House told Chase. “Tyler’s your protege.”

“Yeah. I know.” Chase chuckled. “I know he’s a lot like me.”

“I think you found your soulmate.”

“I’m not gay, House. Contrary to what you, and that cop at the airport in Trenton, believe.” Chase sighed.

“Soulmates don’t have to be romantic, wombat.” 

“Are you defending your weird relationship with Wilson?” Chase smirked.

“I loved Wilson.” House murmured quietly, staring down at his lap. He knew it was true. What scared him was that he didn’t know _how_ he loved Wilson. Was it platonic or romantic? They’d both made a lot of jokes about being gay, but they’d both only been friends for the longest time. It wasn’t until the end, after Wilson had been diagnosed with cancer, did House begin to question himself. He’d given up so much, sacrificed everything, just to be with Wilson in his final months. “I just don’t know how.” He admitted.

Chase was quiet a moment. Mentioning Wilson had made House’s mood do a complete one-eighty. He became sullen and reserved within seconds of just being mischievous. Chase mentally slapped himself. House was still hurt. Wilson’s death was still too new, and House hadn’t ever grieved. Wilson couldn’t be mentioned.

Then again, bringing up Wilson had made House think about his feelings. He opened up a little. This was progress. If Chase made House think about Wilson, he was making him come to terms with his feelings, and making him come to terms with Wilson’s death. He couldn’t avoid it if Chase threw it in his face.

“What do you mean you don’t know how…?” Chase asked quietly. “Did you actually love him romantically?”

“No…” House said, although Chase heard his hesitation.

“House, it’s okay. It’s the twenty-first century.” Chase comforted.

“I’m not gay. Neither was Wilson. We made jokes, and purposely made people question us, but that’s it. It was just a show.”

“Then Cuddy left. Then he got sick. Then you questioned yourself. You didn’t want to lose him. You didn’t ever think he’d die before you, I’m sure, and suddenly you think there may have been something more beneath the surface. Then-”

“Chase. Shut up.” House growled, the glare he was sending the Aussie turning his blood to ice.

“Okay.” Chase murmured in a soothing voice. The duo was quiet for a few minutes, both refusing to look at the other. Chase sighed, unable to take it much longer. “Can I suggest something?”

“No.”

“You should give Nolan a call.” Chase said anyway. “I think you need to talk to a psychiatrist again. He can do some research and find you someone he recommends out here. You did so well in therapy before, House. You got off the Vicodin. You were able to manage the pain. Your relationships were better. Your cases were more interesting. Then Cuddy left. Then Wilson died. Then Foreman left, and Cameron moved to LA, and suddenly you were on Vicodin again. I know you have to think about it for a day or two, but promise me you’ll think about it so that you can start getting help.”

Chase didn’t know if House would listen or not. Odds were, he wouldn’t. But Chase could hope. He’d do whatever it took to help in House’s therapy, just as Wilson had.


	10. Elevator to Heaven

Chase went through his workday as usual. The case ended up being easy. The patient had an autoimmune disorder, like Mitchel predicted. Chase ordered for the meds, and the guy was now recovering. He was a little disappointed. He’d need to talk to Watkins about the cases he gave him. They needed to be challenging, not something any other doctor could diagnose.

Chase was gathering his things to leave for the night when he realized House was staring at him. Chase raised an eyebrow at the older doctor. “What?” 

“Cameron was right about you.” 

“You’ll need to be a little more specific.” Chase sighed, gathering his things again, his back to House. He was sick of hearing about Cameron. 

“You’ve been tainted by me. Here I thought Foreman was the one turning into me, but it was you all along. The only difference is that you have a few more morals than me. But you crave the most puzzling cases, like I do.”

“I like a challenge. Is that so wrong? It’s how you taught me to do my job. I don’t know how _not_ to have difficult cases that we pull back from the brink.”

“Not wrong.” House clarified. “But it will lead you into a life of searching for something you can never get a grasp on.”

“That’s nice.” Chase said, and grabbed his coat off the rack. “You coming?”

House nodded once, then stood from the couch, bracing himself on it once he was up. His leg was hurting, and it was worse than before. “I need Vicodin.” He told the Aussie. Chase shook his head.

“You’re maxed out.” He told him. “It hurts because you’re bored. You need a hobby until you get your license updated.”

“My hobby is pestering you for drugs.”

“Okay, you need a new hobby then.”

“My new hobby is _coercing_ you into giving me drugs.”

“We’re not going to get anywhere with this.” Chase sighed and slung his bag over his shoulder, walking out of the room, knowing House wouldn’t have a choice but to follow him. Chase got into the elevator, holding the door for House who came in not long after. 

When House was inside, Chase let the doors shut. Or so he thought. A cane blocked the doors from shutting. Chase slowly looked over at House, who shrugged. “Oops.” House said. As the doors began to close again, House stopped them again. 

“House,” Chase chastised, annoyed.

“I want drugs.” House reminded simply. Chase was still for a second, then nodded.

“Okay.” He said. “If you want to play dirty, we’ll play dirty.” Chase walked out of the elevator and saluted House.

“Where are you going?” House asked.

“I’m taking the stairs. You’re not winning, House. See you in the lobby in five minutes.” Chase turned and walked down the hall toward the stairs.

House glared as the doors closed. He hadn’t expected that. Chase only had one advantage over him, and it was mobility. Chase had found that advantage and used it, and House couldn’t help but respect that. It’s what he’d taught him, after all.

“He’s better than you.” Wilson said, leaning in his corner of the elevator.

“Isn’t that the point? The next generation being better than the last?” House responded, glancing at his dead friend.

“You didn’t deny it. Interesting.”

“I can’t deny the truth. And it’s only a matter of time before he realizes it.”

“So you want him to be better.” Wilson stated.

“I want to know there’s someone who can do my job when I’m gone.”

“Yes, because it’s so hard saving those fifty lives a year. You do know other doctors save hundreds, if not thousands, a year, right?”

“Why are you here? You’ve kept your mouth shut whenever Chase is around. My other hallucinations didn’t give a damn who I was with. They just talked and did what they did. But you just watch.” House asked, curious.

“I’m you, House. Your subconscious. Why do you think I’m here and different than the others? What’s changed?”

“What hasn’t changed?” House retorted.

“Exactly. I’m not going to act like the others, because they were born in a different part of your life. Your whole life has been turned upside down… And no, that’s not a joke about Australia being upside down. Only makes sense your brain be different, too. I would rather observe you than mess with you, like the others did.”

“And by others, you mean Amber.” House said quietly. He didn’t like this. Dead or not, hallucination or real, he didn’t like Wilson being right. He didn’t like him having this much of an edge on him, figuring him out so easily. He had to one up him. “Did you find her demonic soul in hell?”

“Actually, we’re both quite happy. We have our own plot of land in heaven. We watch you on our TV. You’re cheap entertainment.”

“Huh.” House grunted, his eyebrows furrowing. “Now that’s interesting.”

“What?”

“Don’t play stupid, Wilson. You’re me, so you know what.”

“Maybe. Maybe I want you to admit it to yourself. Why would you want to believe the real Wilson and Amber were together and happy in heaven? Well, first, you’d have to believe in Heaven, so clearly you’re not as atheistic as you like to think. Second, you’d have to actually care about another human being to want to believe they’re happy in the afterlife. That’s where the plan blows up. You couldn’t _possibly_ care about someone.”

House was about to respond, but closed his mouth when the elevator doors opened, and Chase was standing in front of him when they did. “What the hell, House?!” Chase exclaimed. House blinked a few times, confused. Why was Chase angry?

“Why did you stop the elevator?” Chase asked. 

“I didn’t.” House replied, looking at the button panel. He hadn’t… had he? No, Wilson had been leaning against the button panel. He wouldn’t have tried to touch it if he were there.

“House, you’ve been in there for ten minutes!” Chase said. “Do you realize how close I was to calling the fire department?” Chase watched his former boss closely. House seemed genuinely confused, and kept staring at the panel with the buttons in the elevator. Chase’s anger was replaced with concern. “House?” He questioned. “Are you okay?”

“I…” House was quiet for a minute. “No…” He responded. He finally pulled his gaze from the panel and looked at Chase. “I was hallucinating again. I must’ve hit the stop button without realizing it.”

Chase pulled a flashlight out from his bag and checked House’s eyes, flashing it in them. “Wilson?” He asked.

House let Chase quickly check him over. “Yeah.” He said. Chase sighed and took a step back.

“C’mon. It’s your turn for an MRI.”


	11. Chase and Tyler Sitting in a MRI Observatory

House sat on the table of the MRI. Chase handed him a hospital gown with a smirk. “Strip.” He ordered.

“Like you haven’t seen my dick before.” House retorted, quickly taking off his clothes and donning the hospital gown. He took his own watch off and tossed it to Chase, who caught it with ease. “You should give Foreman a call. He’s kind of the expert with hearts or something. Oh wait,” House pretended not to know Foreman’s specialty, or that he was getting a brain MRI, not a heart one.

“I’ll call him as soon as you call Nolan, which you won’t. This could still be psychological. You know, since you’re so good at expressing yourself and letting yourself grieve.”

“God I hope I have a brain tumor.” House groaned.

“Lay down, House.” Chase sighed. Once House was laying down, Chase hit the button on the MRI, moving the table to the inside of it. Chase went into the adjacent room, and started the machine. He watched each image carefully, happy to be in this room, rather than in the machine itself.

They’d only been at this for about twenty minutes when someone else walked into the MRI room. Chase glanced to his side as Tyler walked into the room with him, taking a seat beside him at the computers with a loud, obnoxious sigh, announcing his presence like he needed to.

“You’re not supposed to walk in when an MRI is taking place.” Chase told his fellow as if he needed to.

“Thought this was interesting enough not to care.” Tyler shrugged. “So, what’s _really_ wrong with House?” He asked.

“Nothing.” Chase responded immediately.

“So you’re MRI’ing his brain for fun? I get it. Sometimes cancer and autoimmune disorders are boring. Patients suck. The fun part is the puzzle and unraveling the lies.” 

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” 

“Not until six. What’s wrong with House, Chase?” Tyler asked again. “He’s gotta be the reason you flew to America at a moment’s notice.”

“He’s fine.”

“How long are we going to play this game?” 

“Tyler, even if something _is_ wrong, what makes you think I would tell you?”

“Because he likes me. Said so himself.”

“I heard about Steve Irwin.” Chase sighed, turning his attention back to the images on the screen while simultaneously trying to change the subject.

“He bought it.” Tyler shrugged, chuckling a little. “So what’s wrong with him? He lose his mind or something?” Well, Chase’s tactic apparently didn’t work.

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you flew to America in the middle of a case, you haven’t let him out of your sight, he’s living with you, he is sporting a broken hand today, which he didn’t have yesterday, and sometimes he stares into space.”

Chase was silent for a moment. He glanced at the other young Aussie doctor beside him, who sat back in his chair casually, his hands folded in his lap. He watched Chase, waiting for an answer patiently. Chase sighed, staring at the ground as he answered truthfully.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. I have theories, but I don’t know.”

“Symptoms?” Tyler asked.

“Possible depression. I’m not sure. Actually, just go ahead and add depression to the list. Hallucinations, suicidal tendencies and attempts, emotional control problems…” Chase listed off things he’d noticed as he thought of them. He glanced at Tyler. “You can’t tell the girls.” He ordered. “If word gets out, he could lose more than his sanity. He’ll lose his license, and then his will to live.”

“I won’t.” Tyler promised, crossing his heart. “But it sounds like he’s already lost the will to live.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Chase whispered. “I’m worried.”

“It sounds like he needs a psychiatrist, not an MRI.” Tyler said, placing a hand on Chase’s shoulder to try to reassure him.

“I’m just making sure it’s not something physical.” Chase murmured. “I know it’s probably psychological. I… just want to cover all my bases.”

“I’m here to help, Robert. You hired me for a reason. To help you, I’m assuming. I can help you with this. Whether it be to find a diagnose, or to help emotionally, I can help.” 

Chase was quiet again for a bit. He sighed. “Thanks, Dylan.” He said. 

Tyler nodded. “So he’s hallucinating?” 

“Yeah.”

“Hallucinating what?”

“An oncologist that worked with us in America. His best friend.”

“That’s odd.”

“He’s dead.” Chase told him. “From cancer.” Tyler raised his eyebrows, his face contorting into one of surprise.

“That’s odder.” 

“The fact someone died or the fact he’s hallucinating his dead best friend?” Chase asked.

“No, the fact the oncologist died from cancer is ironic, not odd. What’s odd is that House is hallucinating his dead best friend. Usually hallucinations are of events, not specific people.”

Chase tilted his head to the side in thought. That was true. Why was House hallucinating Wilson? He missed him, Chase knew that for a fact. House had even confessed to loving him. But why was he hallucinating a person?

“He won’t talk to a psychiatrist, will he?” Tyler asked.

“Only one. And I can’t get him to give him a call.”

“He’s been here a day. Give him a break.” Tyler said. “I’ll talk to House, too. See if I can get him to give his psychiatrist a call.”

“Don’t you dare tell House you know.” Chase said. “He’ll lose whatever trust he has in me. He’ll stop talking to me, and… I don’t want to think about what would happen if he were to lose trust in me…”

“What did he do to make you fly to America?” Tyler asked gently. He had a feeling he already knew, judging by the way Chase was talking, and ‘suicidal tendencies and actions’ being added to the list of symptoms.

Chase sighed. “Don’t make me say it, Tyler.”

“You really care for House.”

“I’m afraid I’m the only one left.” Chase whispered. “And so does House. It’s weird. He’s an ass. That’s who he is. Been that way for as long as I can remember. But lately, he’ll get into these moods where I think he gets so terrified of being alone that he has an absent panic attack, and he’ll go above and beyond to make sure I’m healthy so that I don’t up and die on him. He kept me up all night running tests. I haven’t fucking slept in four days, I think. Maybe five. I don’t even know anymore. But he seemed so lost and scared, I couldn’t deny him what little reassurance he got from those tests. I think he’s lost touch with reality because of the hallucinations.”

Tyler was quiet a moment. “You good, mate?” He asked, smiling slightly, pretending the only thing he got from Chase’s monologue was that House spent all night running tests on his former employee. Chase rolled his eyes.

“Yes. I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Good. Then go take a nap in your office, and I’ll finish here with House.”

“I’m fine.” Chase said through a sigh. “Maybe he’ll let me sleep tonight. Besides, if he sees you instead of me when he gets out of the MRI, he’ll panic and wonder where I am.”

“You think he has a panic disorder?” Tyler asked. 

“I honestly don’t know. I wish he’d talk to his psychiatrist, and then I could talk to him to find out what is wrong with House.”

“His doctor wouldn’t tell you. Confidentiality and all.”

“He would if I asked nicely.” Chase smiled. “Apparently I’m hot.”

Tyler chuckled, and the two were quiet for a bit as they watched House’s brain pop up on the computer screens. After another ten minutes, Tyler spoke.

“Give it up, Robbie. He’s clean. Whatever’s going on, it isn’t physical.”

“Damn.” Chase sighed, sinking back into his chair, defeated. He’d never hoped so much for a brain tumor in the amygdala or hypothalamus in his life. It would explain all House’s emotional problems.

Tyler stood. “Talk to him. I think he needs a friend right now, especially if he’s been thinking about killing himself.”

“He’s done more than think about it.”

“I figured that’s why you ran to America so quickly.” Tyler said gently. “Can’t be easy, knowing he knows exactly what to do or take to actually off himself. That means whatever he tried, he wasn’t trying to kill himself. Maybe he wanted to get high, or wasted, or whatever.”

“You don’t know House.” Chase sighed. “He doesn’t do anything by accident. If he would get so low as to want to die, he would just do it. He doesn’t believe in a cry for help. He believes that if someone wants help, they do it _before_ attempting suicide, not use the suicide _as_ the cry for help.”

“And yet, he failed. From what I heard, mate, he’s sort’ve a good doctor, right? He knows how to kill, and kill cleanly. He didn’t want to die.” Tyler assured, then turned to leave the room so Chase could get House out of the MRI. He paused in the doorway, then turned halfway around to speak to Chase once more. “It was a cry for help, and you heard it. Get in touch with that therapist of his yourself. He needs you to take control away from him right now. Don’t leave his recovery up to him. He won’t recover.” With that, Tyler left. 

Chase sat in silence for a bit. Tyler was young, but he was wise beyond his years. He was right. Chase needed to take control of House’s life, and not rely on him to call Nolan. He won’t. Chase knew he’d have to be the one to enroll House in the licensing classes as well. Although House had done the research for it, he probably wouldn’t actually do it himself. 

Chase ran a hand through his hair, then down his face. He stood and went back into the adjacent room with the MRI and hit the button to get House out. When the American was free, he sat up. “So?” House asked, running a hand down his own face.

“You’re clean. No brain tumor. Your hallucinations aren’t caused by anything physical.” Chase told him.

“Yippee.” House said, although his tone was anything but enthusiastic. Maybe sarcastic, but not enthusiastic.

“Here,” Chase walked to the nearby table and handed House his clothes. “Get dressed. Then we can talk about our options.”

“Our options?” House repeated as he began getting dressed. “You mean _my_ options. This is my problem, Chase. And I don’t really think it’s a problem.” 

“Like how Amber wasn’t a problem?” Chase raised an eyebrow. House looked at him, staring into his eyes. Chase shrugged.

“She wasn’t a problem.” House said. “She wasn’t a problem because she was caused from the Vicodin, not anything else.”

“So Wilson is a problem because he’s caused by…” Chase raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he gestured for House to finish the sentence. House raised his own eyebrow and grabbed his watch from Chase’s pocket, putting it on.

“Nothing physical.” He finished, repeating what Chase had told him. House hopped off the MRI and grabbed his cane. They walked out of the MRI room and to the elevator. Chase was beyond ready to go home. He was so exhausted, he wasn’t sure if he’d wake up to his alarm the next morning. 

They got into the car silently, and spent the ride home listening to the radio. Bone Dry by Tristam was playing, and Chase was doing all he could to not turn it up to full blast to fill the silence in the car. He glanced at House, concerned, before looking back to the road. He sighed. Since House had gotten here, everything had been so serious. Everything was about making sure he didn’t hurt himself somehow, which he’d already failed once, since House broke his own hand. Chase glanced at him once more before looking back at the road, merging onto the highway.

“How do you feel about going out tonight?” He asked. 

“What?” House questioned, looking at his former fellow.

“Going out. Doing something. We kicked ass at the karaoke bar that one time. Bet we could do it again.”

House was quiet a moment, looking Chase up and down. “God, you’re serious.” 

“Wouldn’t ask if I weren’t.” Chase shrugged.

“Aren’t you tired?” House raised an eyebrow. Chase resisted the strong urge to immediately say yes and proceed to pass out. Would he ever get to sleep again?

“Past the point of tired. Now I’m just riding the high from lack of sleep.” He said. House watched Chase for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay. Only if Tyler comes, too.”

“What?” Chase glanced at House before looking back to the road. House leaned his seat back.

“You heard me.” He said. “I’ll sing karaoke again if Tyler’s there. We had Foreman last time. We need a third.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Dead.” House responded, causing Chase to look at him with concern, to which House just smirked. Chase hated his dark sense of humor sometimes. Chase sighed.

“Okay.” He relented. “I’ll call Tyler if you call Nolan.”

“This isn’t a negotiation. The negotiation was getting me to go in the first place. I’ve already compromised. Your compromise was letting Tyler go.”

“Strange. And here I thought I was the one driving the car and could take you wherever the hell I wanted to.” Chase smirked. “You’re under my control, House. You were going whether you wanted to or not. I just had the common courtesy to let you know.”

“You can’t ask if you were going to decide the answer anyway.” House said. He waited for Chase to say something again, wanting to argue, to start _something_ , but Chase remained quiet. This frustrated House. The blond knew him too well, and knew how to influence him. 

It was almost scary how Chase could manipulate him.

“Okay.” House said quietly. “I’ll… call Nolan.”

“Glad to hear it.” Chase answered, smiling genuinely as he drove the rest of the way to his place so they could shower and change, and call the people they promised to call. He was happy House agreed to call the psychiatrist himself. It meant he’d be a part of his own recovery, and was willing to work with him. Chase’d won the first battle with House,

But the war was only just beginning.


End file.
